LECTURES. 



LECTURES 



PARABLE 



THE PRODIGAL SON, 

DELIVERED IN THE 

PARISH CHURCH OF ST. MARY, 

NEWINGTON BUTTS, 

DURING THE SEASON OF LENT, 1833, 



REV. HENRY SCAWEN PLUMPTRE, A.M. 

MORNING PREACHER AT THE SAID CHURCH, 

AND ALTERNATE EVENING PREACHER AT TRINITY CHURCH IN 

THE SAID PARISH, AND AT THE FOUNDLING HOSPITAL. 



LONDON; 

J. HATCHARD AND SON, 187, PICCADILLY. 

1833. 



^:^?S 



Gift 
Mrs. Hennen Jennings 
April 26, 1933 



LONDON : 

IBOTSON AND I'ALMDR, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STIiANI). 



PREFACE. 



The following Lectures are allowed to 
go to the press, in deference to the wishes 
of a large portion of my kind and affec- 
tionate hearers, to whom they are deb- 
ated, as a feeble tribute of minis- 
ial gratitude, and pastoral regard. 
vv ith the anxious expectation, that what 
was heard from the pulpit with such an 
intensity of proper feeling, and command- 
ed such extraordinary attendance and 
attention, will not be altogether devoid 
of interest when perused in private; I 



VI PREFACE. 

am induced to submit the Lectures to 
the public, precisely in the same dress, 
in which they appeared at church, I 
have no time, or taste for rhetorical em- 
bellishment, being of opinion with an old 
divine, " that a sermon, like a tool, may 
be polished until it has lost its edge." If 
the Spirit of God will vouchsafe to ac- 
company this volume into the parlour, 
with the same manifestations of His pre- 
sence as were displayed in the sanctuary, 
I shall sit down quietly under the lash of 
the most severe criticism. In His hands 
I leave this little work. It has nothing 
of novelty, only of simplicity and adap- 
tation to the occurrences of daily life, 
to recommend it to general attention. 
Whatever be its imperfections, blemishes, 
or errors, they are attributable solely to 
myself: wherever the sentiments and 



PREFACE. Vll 

spirit of Christianity are displayed ; and 
the mercy of God evinced by the Re- 
deemer in the salvation of fallen hu- 
manity, elucidated ; not unto myself, but 
unto Hirriy who is the " Author and 
Giver of all good,'' be ascribed the praise, 
honor, and glo.ry, through Jesus Christ 
our Lord. 

H. S. PLUMPTRE. 
April ^7th, 1833. 



CONTENTS 



LECTURE I. 

Introduction. The Prodigal's impatience and inde- 
pendence Page 1 

LECTURE II. 

The Prodigal's first step in \\\% wicked career and subse- 
quent extravagance . . . . 30 

LECTURE III. 

The Prodigal's destitution, degradation, misery, and ruin, 

58 

LECTURE IV. 

The Prodigal's madness : his recovery, and deliberation 

87 

LECTURE V. 

The Prodigal's return as a penitent to his father. The 
confession of his guilt . . . . 1 15 



CONTENTS. 



LECTURE VI. 

The ProdigaPs reception at home, a»d the gracious con- 
duct of the father . . . . . 1 44 

LECTURE VIL 

The Prodigal's restoration, not only to his former privi- 
leges, but also the additional honours conferred upon 
him . . . . .174 



LECTURES. 



LECTURE L 

Luke XV. a, 12. 
A certain man had two sons, and the 
younger of them said to his father, 
Father, give me the portion of goods 
thatfalleth to me. And he divided unto 
them his living. 

When I contrast the different circum- 
stances under which we are convened on 
the present occasion, with those with 
which the season of Lent was ushered in 
twelve months ago, *' I am lost in wonder, 
love, and praise." Last year* at this pe- 

* The cholera had been committing its ravages tor 
nearly two months in the parish. These preliminary 
observations are printed to record the mercy of God 
in the removal of the pestilence. 

B 



2 LECTURE I. 

riod, all was consternation and alarm. 
Fearfulness and trembling-, in varied hues, 
were depicted on every countenance, 
which, in defiance of every effort at con- 
cealment, bespoke the trepidation of each 
throbbing bosom. The withering* blast of 
the pestilence had so polluted our atmo- 
sphere, that to some, the very air which 
was given to sustain life, was converted 
into the instrument of its destruction. 
Imagination was already busy in conjecture 
who were to be the intended victims of 
the sweeping scourge. The funeral knell 
was constantly announcing in our ears, 
that some friend, relative, or neighbour, 
were snatched from the living to be num- 
bered with the dead. The destroying 
ano^el had received it in command to en- 
ter the dwellings of many within the cir- 
cumference of this parish, to an extent as 
great, if not greater, than in any other 
parish throughout the metropolis. But 
now the desolating plague has been with- 
drawn from us. The Lord has ** been 



LECTURE I. 3 

entreated for the land," and has recalled 
to himself the messenger of vengeance, 
saying, " It is enough ; stay now thine 
hand." By what singular mercy then 
have we escaped the fearful contagion, 
and have been spared from the general 
wreck to assemble together this night 
under the roof of this house ? We can 
only acknowledge the boon by saying, 
that " it is of the Lord's mercies that we 
are not consumed." What gratitude then 
ought to be ours I ^ Let those among us 
who sit in sable garments, as an outward 
token of the bereavement they have en- 
dured — the force of which may be felt, but 
cannot-be described— learn '* in patience 
to possess their souls," and bow with sub- 
mission to Him who " doeth all things 
well.^^ Yea, even with the funereal garb 
wrapt around your shoulders, we would 
bid " you rejoice in the Lord, and joy in 
the God of your salvation." But more 
especially do we call upon ^ou, who, with 
yourselves and families, are all alive this 

B 2 



4 LECTURE I. 

day, to tune your harps to songs of praise. 
While, however, we would thus elicit the 
thanksgiving hymn, we would at the same 
time bid you ** rejoice with trembling.''' 
The disease came among us, we know not 
how ; it existed among us, we know not 
how ; it departed from us, we know not 
how, nor whither it went. It ma^, then, 
return^ we know not how. It must re- 
turn, if we return to our former iniqui- 
ties. While, then, we acknowledge the 
mercy which hath preserved us alive unto 
this day, let us devote those lives so won- 
derfully preserved to the service of our 
Benefactor ; then, whether the " pesti» 
lence walks in darkness, or the sickness 
destroys at noon day,^^ we shall not be un- 
prepared for the attack ; and if we fall, 
we shall die nobly fighting the battles of 
the Lord of Hosts, and shall receive the 
reward of the victorious conqueror, even 
the *' crown of glory that fadeth not 
away,^' bestowed by the great Captain of 
our salvation, Jesus Christ the righteous. 



LECTURE I. O 

Having made these few prefatory re- 
marks, which the occasion so imperatively 
demands, I proceed to solicit your atten- 
tion to the words of our text, which we 
have designed as the basis of our evening's 
meditation. 

It may possibly occasion some surprise 
that the subject which I have selected for 
our Lectures, should have been one so trite 
and familiar. I did not arrive at this de- 
termination hastily or unadvisedly j not 
without much deliberation and prayerful 
meditation. I might have embraced this 
opportunity to have endeavoured to solve 
some theological difficulty; to have ex- 
pressed an opinion on some point of theo- 
logical controversy ; or to have exposed 
and refuted some theological heresy. 

I might have attempted to have amused 
your understandings by some theological 
speculation, soaring into the regions of 
unfulfilled prophecy ; foolishly seeking, as 
some do, to fathom the depths of the di- 
vine mind, of which we can scarcely scan 



LECTURE I. 

even the surface. I might have gone to 
the depository of sacred treasures, and 
have sought from thence, something that 
at least wore the aspect of novelty ; for 
Solomon has declared, that there is really 
nothing " new under the sun." But I 
candidly acknowledge, that I prefer ex- 
tracting materials for our meditation, from 
stores which are not only venerable for 
their antiquity, and for their plainness and 
simplicity, but whose capability also of 
enrichment hath been confessed by suc- 
cessive generations. I desire rather to 
be profitably practical, than to be specula- 
tively pleasing ; to be useful, rather than 
to be entertaining ; to instruct, rather 
than to amuse the understanding ; to in- 
fluence the heart, rather than the head, if 
both objects are not to be attained. We 
seek not to pander to the vitiated appe- 
tites of our hearers ; or to attempt to 
satiate the feverish thirst of those who 
are running to and fro in every direction, 
to obtain a draught from some untried 



LFCTURE I. 7 

fountain. We wish not to captivate, by 
dressing up religion in a novel garb ; 
what is new in theology may well excite 
our suspicion and distrust. Our object 
is, rather to place before your eyes doc- 
trines and duties already familiar, but 
whose familiarity hath produced oblivion 
and disregard : to remind you of what 
you already know, rather than attempt to 
inform you of what jon do not know ; 
though, of course, we speak here under 
certain limitations ; for one great design 
of our ministerial exertions, is the instruc- 
tion in righteousness and edification in 
holiness. For these reasons, therefore, I 
have deemed the subject we propose to 
discuss, an appropriate topic for medi- 
tation, supplying abundant materials for 
profitable contemplation to almost every 
class of our hearers. 

But I have an additional motive for 
the line of conduct I have pursued. An 
earnest desire to promote, to the utmost of 
my power, the best interests of the young 



8 LECTURE I. 

and inexperienced members of our flock. 
Scarcely, perhaps, ever was there a period 
when their welfare was more endangered 
than at the present crisis. Scepticism, and 
modern liberality, falsely so called, which 
is only infidelity in disguise, have gone 
far to annihilate, or at least to neutralize, 
sound scriptural principles ; and the licen- 
tiousness of modern custom, fashion, man- 
ners, and society, threatens with a daring 
hand to subvert sound scriptural practice. 
We contend, that the young of the present 
day are exposed to peculiar temptations ; 
which will account, in some measure, for 
the peculiar obliquity of their conduct, so 
universally acknowledged, and fervently 
deplored. It is one part of our pastoral 
duty, (a duty too much overlooked by 
ministers, within and without our esta- 
blishment,) to take under our fostering 
protection the youthful subjects of our 
charge. We are apt too much to disre- 
gard them ; until left to themselves, they 
escape from our control, and overleaping 



LECTURE I. y 

the barriers which reason and relig^ion 
have prescribed as the walls of their en- 
closure, they wander on without a guide, 
until they are ultimately lost amid the 
wiles and intricacies of a wilderness world. 
With a view, then, of counteracting* in 
some measure the baneful influence of 
the pestilential atmosphere, which is blast- 
ing the opening prospects of the rising 
generation ; we have earnestly solicited 
the attendance of the young of this parish, 
within these hallowed walls, during the 
delivery of our course of Lectures, which 
will be framed with reference to their 
special requirements. Here we shall en- 
deavour to present them with an antidote 
to that poison, which unwittingly, per- 
haps, they are imbibing ; and with which 
they are already, to a certain extent, con- 
taminated. Here we shall exhibit to them 
a mirror of deformity, in which they may 
see their own likeness, and recoil at the 
resemblance ; but here also we shall 
endeavour so to invest them with the 

b5 



10 LECTURE i; 

panoply of God, as that the " enemy shall 
not be able to do them violence, nor the 
son of wickedness to hurt them." Here 
also we shall endeavour to show them 
how this deformity may be transformed 
into the divine image and likeness. Come 
then with us, my dear young friends, and 
we promise to do you good. Accept our 
invitation. Snatch a few moments from 
the avocations of your daily calling, or 
from the fascinations of your daily de- 
lights. Retire with us for a little while 
from the noise and bustle of an unthink- 
ing world, into the recesses of this sanc- 
tuary ; and I trust that you will have 
occasion to bear testimony that this is 
" none other but the house of God, and 
that this is the gate of heaven." Keep- 
ing these objects steadily in view, and im- 
ploring, as we earnestly do, the blessing 
of God on our exertions, without which 
the most harmonious accents are power- 
less and unmeaning as " sounding brass, 
or a tinkling cymbal j " we venture tp 



LECTURE li 11 

analyse the parable under considera- 
tion. 

We would just allude to the circum- 
stances which elicited from the lips of our 
blessed Master, this beautiful illustration 
of the doctrine he intended to convey. 
Indeed, the three parables comprised in 
this chapter breathe the same sentiment, 
and respond to the same string of divine 
mercy. The Scribes and Pharisees, the 
implacable and unwearied enemies of our 
Lord, brought it as a railing accusation 
against him, that he conversed and sat 
down to meat with those who were noto- 
rious sinners. Our Lord unhesitatingly 
admits the fact, and pleads guilty to the 
charge ; but vindicates himself from the 
criminality which they would attach to 
his proceedings, by declaring the purpose 
for which he associated with some of the 
vilest of characters — the refuse of society ; 
that be came to convict them oj^ their sin, 
and convert them^om it ; that he came 
purposely to call these nefarious sinners to 



12 LECTURE I. 

repentance, and not those who, like the 
Pharisees, fancied that they were righteous 
and needed no repentance. He then ex- 
emplifies his declaration by the following 
parable, which begins thus : — " A certain 
man had two sons." The psalmist says, 
that " children, and the fruit of the womb, 
are an heritage and gift that cometh of the 
Lord." Let parents acknowledge the 
boon with gratitude, and consecrate their 
offspring to the service of the donor ; nor 
let them murmur if the same hand which 
is stretched out in bestowing, at some 
early period should be extended again to 
receive ; but let them adopt on this, as on 
every other occasion, the language of Job 
under a similar bereavement, when he 
said, "The Lord gives, and the Lord lakes 
away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.^' 
Of children thus given, some are the de- 
light, some are the bane of their parents ; 
some are the glory of their father, and 
his crown of rejoicing ; while others 
" bring down his grey hairs with sorrow 



LECTURE I* 13 

to the grave." Of some it must be said, 
that " it would have been good for them 
if they had never been born." It would 
be foreign to our purpose to attempt the 
inquiry into the reason for this diversity 
of character ; why, for instance, Cain 
was a murderer, and Abel a righteous 
man. In fact, no satisfactory answer can 
be given. The only solution of the pro- 
blem is this, " Even so, Father, for it 
seemed good in thy sight.^^ We must 
not endeavour to pry into the mind of 
Omniscience. Faith believeth all things 
recounted in scripture, but attempts not 
to assign a reason for their existence. 

Under this title of ** a certain man,'* 
we can have no doubt but that allusion is 
here made to God as the common Father, 
for ** in him we all live, and move, and 
have our being." By the two sons, we 
have a reference made to the two descrip- 
tions of character who were present to 
the speaker's eyfe : the Pharisees and the 
Publicans. The latter it was the object 



14 LECTURE I. 

of Christ to bring* to repentance ; the for- 
mer he endeavoured to reconcile to the free 
spontaneous offers of mercj, which were 
so largely and liberally proffered to sin- 
ners in general, and against which the in- 
dignation of these self-righteous persons 
was aroused. The publican is here de- 
lineated under the character of the 
younger son. 

I. We will first of all investigate the 
nature of the son's petition, and the circum- 
stances which induced the father to grant 
it. " Father," said he, "give me the 
portion of goods that falleth to me." It 
is fair to imagine that both children had 
alike partaken of the same privileges ; 
both, no doubt, had received every kind- 
ness and attention which a fond pious 
father could bestow upon his beloved 
offspring. Nothing that was for their 
advantage did he withhold from his dar- 
ling children. Domesti(!ated under the 
parental roof, they had fully participated in 



LECTURE I. 15 

every parental blessing. But the kindness 
of the parent will not always ensure the 
obedience and dutiful affection of the 
child. Something more than the ap- 
paratus of human skill is required to di- 
rect and regulate the human heart. The 
grace of God can alone control the 
powers of this complicated, mighty en- 
gine, either of good or evil, which ele- 
vates us either to heaven, or hurls us 
down into hell. Hitherto probably there 
had been no perceptible difference in the 
character of these two sons : possibly no 
opportunity had been afforded for a de- 
velopment of their different dispositions ; 
under a similarity of circumstances they 
had both grown together beneath their 
father's roof with a similarity of deport- 
ment. But the mask of the younger now 
falls off, and his deformed features be- 
come apparent to all. He began to grow 
weary of acting a part which he was ill 
qualified to sustain. He wished to figure 
away in the great theatre of life, and not 



16 LECTURE I. 

to be confined to the circumscribed limits 
of a domestic area. He wished to be an 
independent being— yes! not only in- 
dependent of his father, but of his God ; 
he wished to think and act for himself; 
or, in common language, he wished to 
stamp himself a man. But before this 
could be effected he must be possessed of 
the means of indulging his folly, and se- 
curing, as he imagined, his title to inde- 
pendence. He knew that so long as his 
property was in his father's custody, his 
desires would be restrained ; his ambi- 
tion to shine in society as a man of the 
world would be repressed. He therefore 
besought his father that his money might 
be at his own disposal. " Father," said he, 
'* give me the portion of goods that falleth 
to me." The real character of this pro- 
digal spendthrift, which had hitherto, with 
difficulty, been suppressed, now began to 
be fully developed. The petition itself 
was improper, and urged in unbecoming 
language. He assumed too much the 



LECTURE 1. 17 

tone of authority and dictation to his pa- 
rent ; he seemed to demand somewhat 
imperatively, that as a right, which in 
reality if conferred, was a mere sponta- 
neous act of kindness, dependent on his 
parent's good will. It is evident to my ap- 
prehension, by the expression hereafter 
used, that he really had nothing which he 
could call his own, or which fell to him 
by inheritance ; for the father is de- 
scribed as dividing between his sons his 
living ; all he had to subsist on ; not their 
property but his own ; the sum total of 
his earthly possession. So that the son 
arrogantly demanded that to which he had 
no legal or equitable claim, and that too 
with a determination of purpose which 
appeared to take no denial. " Give me," 
saidhe, **myportion;" he might have add- 
ed, if it seems good to thee, O my father. 
But he now began to throw aside all those 
restraints which should have been im- 
posed by decency, filial affection, and pa- 
rental reverence. He yielded to the im- 



18 LECTURE I. 

pulse of some of the vilest of passions, 
of which his father was to be the first vic- 
tim ; the profligate career of this prodi- 
gal youth was to be ushered in by an act 
of audacity towards his parent. 

But for what purpose was it that this 
stripling so earnestly desired to have the 
absolute control over that property, 
which he designated as his own, and 
which, therefore, he felt he had a right to 
demand ? Was it that he might embark 
in some honorable, learned, or lucrative 
profession, and thus rise to distinction by 
the ordinary steps of diligence, persever- 
ance, and integrity ? Or did he wish to 
purchase an estate which might perpetu- 
ate the name of his family through count- 
less generations ? Had this been his object, 
we might have been disposed to view in 
a more favourable light his importunity. 
But he had no such intention ; nothing 
was more remote from his contemplation. 
He was about to embark solely as he ima- 
gined on an enterprise of pleasure. He was 



LECTURE I. 19 

too unsettled in mind to enter upon any 
professional engagement, however numer- 
ous or valuable its advantages. He was 
determined to seek for that v/hich hither- 
to, as he conceived, had eluded his grasp, 
happiness. He resolved on the indul- 
gence and gratification of every desire, 
which hitherto had been stifled in his 
bosoni, but now thirsting for satiety burst 
forth with irresistible violence. He could 
no longer tolerate the idea of dragging out 
a monotonous existence, under the anx- 
ious superintendence of a parent's eye, 
where every look was observed, and every 
action criticized : he was resolved on po- 
sitive enjoyment ; he was arrived at that 
period when he would see life, and taste 
life, and drain its cup to the very dregs. 
He panted for liberty, and once in pos- 
session of the golden key, which could 
unlock the door of his prison-house, he de- 
termined on being free. In common lan- 
guage, he had attained the years of discre- 
tion ; but this term could not have been 



so LECTURE I. 

more unhappily misapplied. Does this 
wretched boy stand alone in the world, 
or has the Saviour, in the parable, been 
sketching an imaginary character whose 
reality never existed ? Who traces not his 
own likeness in the portrait held up to 
your view ? I appeal to the hearts and 
consciences of you my hearers. What 
man among you, who has attained the 
age of maturity, if he speak the sentiment 
of truth, must not confess with shame and 
confusion of face, that he has personated 
the same character ? Who among us, just 
as we were about to be launched from 
school into the world, with the blood 
circulating with rapidity through our 
veins, and our pulse beating high with ar- 
dent anticipations of ascending the pinna- 
cle of grandeur and of glory, have not 
gone to our father with this request, 
** Father, give me the portion of goods that 
falleth to me?" or if we have not done 
so, we were restrained only from the fear 
of incurring his wrathful indignation, and 



LECTURE I. 21 

meeting with a stern refusal. O how 
earnestly did we desire to become possess- 
ed of our paternal property, or to pro- 
cure riches as the means of self-gratifica- 
tion, by almost any means, that our names 
might stand high on the lists of fashion 
and of fame! But how few have ever at- 
tained the object of their ambition ; or, 
having attained it, were not disappoint- 
ed in the possession ; disgusted at their 
own folly in pursuing a phantom, and 
were obliged to confess that ** all is va- 
nity and vexation of spirit ; " that with 
all their earthly distinctions they were 
losing the *' crown of eternal glory ? " 
Whose heart does not now reproach him 
for his temerity and presumption in at- 
tempting to make himself the arbiter of 
his own destiny ? and where should we 
now have been, had not the merciful 
hand of God interposed to arrest our 
progress in the career of vice ? But if we 
fail to acknowledge our moral likeness in 
the mirror held up to our view, our spi- 



^2 LECTURE 1. 

ritual resemblance must secure our atten- 
tion. We outwardly and publicly confess 
that God is our Father, the author and 
giver of every good gift ; that we have 
nothing which we can call our own ; 
all is His. We profess to seek every 
blessing from God ; but do not our prayers 
too often assume the language of autho- 
rity and dictation? We seem rather to 
prescribe to God what he should bestow 
upon us, than leave him to assign us that 
portion which seemeth Him good. We 
appear to demand that rather as a right, 
which is only a privilege ; to claim his 
bounty rather as the reward of our merit, 
than the result of his mercy ; and grudge 
if we be not satisfied, that what is allotted 
to us is commensurate with our deserts. 
We virtually come before God and say, 
" Father, give me the portion of goods that 
falleth to me." And having obtained 
them, how are they employed .^^ Not in the 
service of the proprietor, whose they are 
and to whose sole honour they ought to 



LECTURE I. 23 

be consecrated ; but we use them in pan- 
dering to our own lusts and appetites ; 
we convert them as instruipents for pro- 
moting- our own and not the glory of our 
Master ; we desecrate them to the vilest 
of purposes, and justify our conduct by 
that most perverted of all arguments, 
'* Have I not a right to do what I will 
with my own?" when in Aict we have 
nothing which we can call our own ; or, 
else still more impiously we dedicate 
them to the service of satan, and convert 
our bodies, the " temples of the Holy 
Ghost," into the abode of all that is 
shameless and nameless, in vicious princi- 
ple and devilish practice. Then again, 
we copy the example of this unhappy 
spendthrift in another point of view : we 
try to take the management of our af- 
fairs into our own hands ; impiously con- 
ceiving that we can order them better 
than Omniscience itself. How often do 
we arraign the conduct of God at the bar 
of our own tribunal ; murmur at his ap- 



^4 LECTURE I. 

pointment, and secretly impugn his go- 
vernment ? When our hopes are blasted, 
and our plans annihilated, we attribute 
the failure to the work being wrested 
from our own control. Thus we perish 
the victims of our own folly and impiety. 

II. But we pass on to notice very 
briefly, secondly and lastly, the conduct 
of the father. He granted his son's pe- 
tition ; for we read that " he divided unto 
them his living ; " not, you will observe, 
their hereditary property, for it appears 
they had none ; but his own living ; he 
robbed himself to enrich his sons. It is 
possible that the father, in the first in- 
stance, resisted his son's exorbitant re- 
quest, and reasoned with him on the 
folly and impropriety of his conduct ; but 
finding that all argument was ineffectual, 
and that he was determined on pursuing 
his own head-long career, he at last 
yielded to his importunities in order that 
he might be allowed to feel the full effects 



LECTURE I. S5 

of his headstrong waywardness, by at- 
tempting to prove himself wiser than 
his father. Sometimes there is as much 
mercy in denying, as in granting a peti- 
tion ; sometimes infinitely more. This 
our heavenly Father knows ; and there- 
fore in very love to his supplicating peo- 
ple, denies them those requests made in 
ignorance and in blindness ; which, if 
granted, would either impair their happi- 
ness or insure their destruction. But 
sometimes, even God himself is pro- 
voked to yield to our unceasing applica- 
tions, and as an act of judicial punish- 
ment, indulges us with the gratification 
of our heart's desire. *' Be it unto thee 
even as thou wilt,^' is not only the an- 
swer to our patience^ but sometimes to 
our impatience. This God does, not to 
destroy us, but to humble us ; to teach us 
a lesson of dependence ; to lash us into 
obedience ; to make us acknowledge our 
temerity in preferring our own^ to his 
guidance ; to show us that in Himself 

c 



26 LECTURE I. 

alone is stability and security. It has 
been remarked, that " whatsoever the Lord 
moves us unto prospers, but those things 
which we move him to grant, seldom 
succeed." No manner of thing that 
is really good will the Lord withhold 
from his loving children ; but then we 
must leave him to determine what is 
good. He sees not as man sees. " God 
denies a Christian nothing, but to give 
him something better." Would we always 
be successful petitioners, let us '' seek 
those things which are above." Let spi- 
ritual heavenly treasures be the object of 
our attainment, then " whatsoever we 
thus ask in prayer, believing, we shall re- 
ceive." But under all circumstances, let 
the true spirit of resignation which shone 
so conspicuously in the Redeemer's cha- 
racter, be displayed in ours, " Neverthe- 
less not my will, but thine, O God, be 
done." 

Here, then, for the present, we bid 
adieu to the indulgent father and re- 



LECTURE I. Q7 

belHous son. But ere we part let them 
speak a word to those who are parents, 
and those who are children. 

To Parents. Endeavour by all pos- 
sible means to restrain the inordinate 
desires of impetuous youth. Yield not 
to their pressing solicitations, when com- 
pliance with their demands would place 
in jeopardy, either their present or eter- 
nal happiness. Furnish them not with 
suicidal weapons, lest their blood be 
required at your hands. Learn with 
affection, but with firmness, to say. No. 
Remember the case of Eli -, he was a 
fond, weak, foolish father, criminally 
indulgent to his sons ; and as is ge- 
nerally the case in such instances, his love 
was not returned by a corresponding af- 
fection on their parts. They treated him 
with contempt rather than with rever- 
ence* He should have exercised his pa- 
rental authority to have enforced obe- 
dience ; whereas, by conniving at the ex- 
cesses of his sons, he unwittingly entailed 

c 2 



S8 LECTURE I. 

a curse upon himself and family. Teach 
your children the knowledge, and the 
love, and the fear of God, as their hea- 
venly f Father in Christ Jesus. Obe- 
dience to their earthly parents will soon 
follow. " The fear of the Lord is the 
beginning of wisdom ; " let children learn 
it from the cradle. 

To Children. Know in what your happi- 
nessconsists ; notin resisting bulin comply- 
ing with paternal exhortations and com- 
mands. Be not anxious to take the reins of 
government into your own hands. You 
know not the difficulty of self-control. 
You cannot yet curb one passion, how then 
can you contend with a legion ? Be will- 
ing to submit to the guidance of parental 
affection ; nor think it a degradation to 
your character. We have the highest 
authority for the precept here inculcated, 
even that of the Son of God, who in the 
days of his incarnation, "went down 
with his parents to Nazareth, and was 
subject unto them." Here was the inde- 



LECTURE I. £9 

pendence of God making itself depend- 
ent on man. What astonishing humility! 
Accustom yourselves thus to reason. My 
father is right, and I am wrong. The 
voice of Christ as your Father is, " My 
son, give me thine heart." It is your duty 
as well as your interest to comply with 
the request, and say, "Take that thine 
is." Make an unconditional surrender 
of yourselves into the custody of your 
Omnipotent Guardian ; there is security 
in no other name under heaven. You 
cannot confide in Christ too much, or in 
man too little. Remember, "he that 
trusteth his own heart is a fool." I say 
no more, hoping to have another oppor- 
tunity of addressing you. 



so 



LECTURE II. 

Luke XV. 13. 

And not many days after the younger 
son gathered all together, an^ took his 
journey into afar country, and there 
wasted his substance with riotous living. 

We left the unhappy youth, whose his- 
tory we are endeavouring to delineate, 
just on the point of preparing to carry 
into execution his daring and dangerous, 
but darling designs. He had succeeded 
in obtaining the great object of his heart's 
desire. He was now for the first time, as 
he imagined, master of himself, and of his 
property ; the most important person in 
his own estimation in the creation. He was 



LECTURE II. 31 

resolved on thinking and acting for him- 
self. His pulse beat high in expectation 
of realizing all those dreams of happiness, 
which his sanguine imagination had sketch- 
ed in such vivid colours, and exhibited 
before his ejes as the only desirable at- 
tainment. He was not long in doubt 
what course to pursue : perchance he ar- 
gued like the rich fool in the parable ; 
" Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for 
many years ; take thine ease ; eat, drink, 
and be merry." This was the only object 
he had in view, positive enjoyment. He 
had soon discernment enough to see, (for 
the children of this world are wise in 
their generation,) that there was one 
grand barrier, which obstructed his path 
to the temple of his goddess. Pleasure ; 
namely, his father's house. Encircled by 
this domestic enclosure, he was like a fa- 
vourite bird shorn of its wings, or im- 
prisoned in its cage ; he possessed every 
thing but liberty. He could not soar 
into that region of delights which fancy 



32 LECTURE II. 

had depicted. Unshackled he must enter 
upon his perilous enterprize. He must be 
free. He must quit his parental roof. No 
other alternative could be suggested. To 
remain at home was imprisonment, and 
death to his expectations. The deed was 
no sooner suggested than it was carried 
into execution ; for we read that, "not 
many days after the younger son ga- 
thered all together, and took his journey 
into a far country." In the peaceful 
abode in which he had been born and 
educated, which in days of innocency 
was his little paradise, he had enjoyed 
every blessing which an affectionate pa- 
rent could bestow upon a beloved child : 
but he had now no relish for scenes like 
these. He regarded his home as his prison- 
house, and his father as the keeper ; his 
relations and domestics as so many links 
in that chain, which impeded his progress 
in his pleasurable career. The whole- 
some restraints of his father's right-hand, 
gently pulling him back when he was 



LECTURE II. 33. 

disposed to stray ; the silent but well un- 
derstood rebuke of his father's superin- 
tending eye ; the mild expostulation, the 
salutary admonition, hitherto heard with 
delight, are now regarded as unwelcome 
intruders ; enemies to his peace — the 
murderers of his happiness. He becomes 
impatient of control ; he will own alle- 
giance to none ; he is proud, insolent, 
and daring ; and at last defies the autho- 
rity of his own parent, and altogether 
withdraws himself from his protection. 
The remembrance of that paternal solici- 
tude which had watched over him from his 
cradle to the present moment, is entirely 
obliterated; the wound which he is in- 
flicting in his parental bosom by his un- 
generous, unnatural conduct, is utterly 
disregarded. /S'e/f is the object of his ido- 
latry ; provided lie is happy, he cares not 
who is miserable. Fly he must, and fly 
he does ; not merely from his home, but 
from the land of his nativity. Like 
many a discontented man in the present 

c5 



34 LECTURE II. 

day, he first quarrels with himself and 
then with every thing around him ; he 
fancies that happiness is not to be found 
in his own country, he therefore seeks it 
in foreign climes. He pronounces a sen- 
tence of outlawry upon himself; he 
becomes a voluntary exile not only from 
his own shores, but at last from his God ; 
he finds to his cost, that a change of 
place will not effect a change of nature. 
View the subject through the spiri- 
tual telescope, and behold the Christian 
prodigal ; I say the Christian prodigal, 
for it is evident that the parable is in- 
tended to illustrate not the case of every 
sinner, but the mode of Christ's dealing 
with his church ; for though every sinner 
is a prodigal, yet is not every sinner a 
penitent. Admitted at an early age by 
baptism into Christ's church ; nursed and 
cradled in its very bosom ; as an incor- 
porated member of Christ's family and 
household, the son becomes the infant ex- 
pectant of a glorious inheritance ; and 



LECTURE II. 85 

entitled to all the unspeakable privileges 
of an heir of immortality. Fostered and 
protected under the mild and peaceable 
government of his gracious Father, he 
has only to act in conformity to his 
laws and be happy ; his safety and welfare 
depend upon his obedience. But as he 
advances in manhood, he advances in 
discontent and restlessness; he becomes 
weary and impatient of all those whole- 
some restraints which religion requires ; 
he no longer looks upon God as his loving, 
tender Father ; but sees in him an austere, 
imperious taskmaster, imposing burdens 
which he imagines are too heavy for him to 
bear. He becomes more delighted with, 
and contracts a greater friendship for, the 
world ; the love of his Father in the same 
degree becomes weaker and weaker. He 
soon perceives that it is impossible to serve 
God and mammon ; one or the other there- 
fore must be abandoned. Enemies from with- 
in and from without, suggest that the yoke 
which he is now compelled to bear is both 



36 LECTURE II. 

difficult and degrading ; that the servitude 
under which he is now dragging out a 
miserable existence, is both unprofitable 
and dishonourable. They recommend 
him to seek to have his portion in this 
life, and not to trust to promises of fu- 
ture blessedness which never maybe real- 
ized. They set before him in most strik- 
ing colours, the folly of looking to things 
unseen, when what are seen are not only 
pregnant with present delight, but within 
the compass of his own grasp. He gives 
credence to their word. He is dazzled 
by the anticipation of immediate enjoy- 
ment. He seriously meditates a retreat ; 
his object is to obtain possession of all the 
good things of this world, to which hecon- 
siders himself entitled by right, as the por- 
tion of goods which falleth to him. This is 
the Jirst step in the Christian prodigal's 
wicked career ; the ahajidomnent of his 
Father's house, the house of prayer, the 
temple of his God. He no longer goes 
with the rest of the family to unite with 



LECTURE II. 37 

them his voice, in the delightful employ- 
ment of prayer and praise, but turns his 
back with contempt upon the scene of 
their hallowed festivity. He no longer 
considers the day of his Father, the Sab- 
bath day, a day of delight, holy and ho- 
nourable to his God ; but he tramples 
upon it^ and despises it as a day of no re- 
putation, as interposing an unnecessary 
interruption to his pleasurable pursuits. 
His conduct demonstrates, though his lips 
be silent, that he has imbibed, and is 
acting upon, the sentiment of the profane 
people described in Job, who in speaking 
of God said, " Depart from us, for we 
desire not the knowledge of thy ways.'' 
He exemplifies in his actions that grada- 
tion of vice so strikingly delineated by 
the psalmist.' He first of all begins by 
*' walking in the counsel of the ungodly ;" 
then he " stands in the way of sinners ;^^ 
and lastly, he " sits in the seat of the 
scornful," and turns religion into ridi- 
cule as mere mockery and mummery. 



38 LECTURE il. 

Yes ! he would run away if it were pos- 
sible from his Maker ; like guilty Adam, 
he would try to hide himself from his 
God ; for nothing now is more painful to 
him than to feel that he is exposed to His 
scrutinizing eye. Yes ! he would fly to 
the utmost part of the earth ; he would 
" take the wings of the morning, and re- 
main in the uttermost parts of the sea ; " 
yea, he would go down to hell itself 5 if 
he could be sure that there he could 
escape the presence and Spirit of his God. 
ButiJe is there also. So blinded are sin- 
ners as to shun happiness and embrace 
ruin ; to regard the glorious liberty of the 
sons of God as the greatest slavery ; and 
wish to exchange it for the vile drudgery 
of vice and of villany. Never, my young 
friends, let any thing tempt 'you to stray 
from your heavenly Father's house. Be 
assured, that the farther you recede from 
that abode of peace and security, the 
nearer you approach the brink of your 
own destruction. What Solomon said of 



LECTURE II. 69 

temporal restlessness, and want of sta- 
bility, is also true of spiritual. ** As a 
bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a 
man that wandereth from his place." And 
where is a Christian's place, but the 
house of God ? If we wander from that, 
like Noah's dove we may fly to and fro 
through the wide expanse of air, but shall 
find " no rest for the sole of our foot.'' 
There is no safety without the ark of 
God ; we are then exposed to all the 
combined fury of the contending elements. 
To you it may seem a matter of small 
moment, a trifling error, a venial off*ence, 
that you absent yourselves from the "courts 
of the Lord's house ;" but it is one of the 
first acts of rebellion against God. It is 
a virtual denial of his authority as a sove- 
reign. It betrays the alienation of the 
heart from God, which, if not checked, 
will end in final apostasy. 

But let us follow the prodigal son 
through the remainder of his career. He 
had quickly decided on the first fatal step. 



40 LECTURE II. 

On the wings of ardent expectation he 
flew from the walls of his father's prison, 
as he imagined it to be, and escaped 
" like a bird from the snare of the fowler,'- 
in safety, to the land of liberty and de^ 
light. But what was his object in thus^ 
travelling to a distant, unknown region ? 
Was it that he might more effectually 
engage in some honourable pursuit, or 
more successfully employ the talents com- 
mitted to his care for his own or his father's 
advantage ? Under such circumstances 
his flight would not only have been jus- 
tifiable, it might have been even praise- 
worthy. But, alas ! nothing was more 
remote from the mind of this headstrong 
youth. He thought not of his own, or of 
his father's business. So far from being 
intent on the profitable expenditure of 
his property, we read that " he wasted 
his substance in riotous living." He em- 
barked solely on a tour of pleasure. Self- 
gratification was his only object, no matter 
how costly the purchase j he was deter- 



LECTURE II. 41 

mined on selling- all he had, to become 
possessed of this pearl of inestimable value, 
happiness. He was now at liberty to act 
for himself. Far removed from the range 
of parental authority, he had nothing- to 
dread from the effects of parental displea- 
sure. He gave the rein to his unbridled 
passions, which hurried him on like the 
impetuous war-horse in the battle, until 
he fell pierced by the darts of innumerable 
enemies. Scripture history does not ac- 
quaint us with the particulars of the licen- 
tious career of this unhappy son ; but it 
is easy, and it is lawful in the present in- 
stance to follow him, in imagination, 
through some of the scenes, in which he 
strutted away, as the principal actor upon 
the platform of iniquity. When a young 
man first quits the threshold of his paren- 
tal roof, and enters upon the journey of 
life, with an abundance of money at his 
command, he will soon be surrounded by 
a host of plunderers, who have no other 
object in view than to enrich themselves 



42 LECTURE II. 

at his expense. They will say to him, 
*' Cast in thy lot with us, we will do thee 
good ; " and unless restrained by sancti- 
fied reason and religion, he will inevitably 
become the dupe of all the wiles which 
treachery can devise. Ignorant of him- 
self, ignorant of the world, unacquainted 
with the depravity and deceitfulness of 
his own heart, he suspects not, and is un- 
prepared for deception in others. He 
measures all mankind by a standard of his 
own erecting, and detects no deficiency. 
We can conceive a host of such characters 
awaiting the arrival of this unhappy pro- 
digal in that distant country whither he 
travelled, ready to pounce upon him with 
all the avidity of a vulture on its prey ; 
for " where the carcase is, there will the 
eagles be gathered together." He fell an 
easy and willing victim, into the snare 
which had been so artfully prepared for 
his destruction. We may fairly imagine 
that he becomes the companion of thieves 
and harlots j that he launches forth into 



LECTURE II. 43 

all those acts of debauchery and intempe- 
rance, the bare mention of which would 
once, when under his father's roof, have 
filled him with horror. His whole life 
may be said to be a continued round of 
sitting down to eat and to drink, and rising 
up to play. He attempts to fix no bounds 
to his appetite ; he lives only to gratify 
the " lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, 
and the pride of life." Solomon, in the 
seventh chapter of his book of Proverbs, 
has given a most interesting picture of a 
young man, led astray by the wicked de- 
signs of an abandoned woman, into whose 
evening walks he had thrown himself ; for 
the purpose of availing himself of the 
cover of the night, for the perpetration of 
an act, which he was unwilling the sun 
should witness. We recommend the pas- 
sage to the serious contemplation of those 
young men who may trace their own re- 
semblance in the picture before them. It 
is more adapted for meditation in private, 
than for publication from the pulpit. The 



44 LECTURE H. 

character wtiich Solomon gives of this un- 
happy youth is strongly described, and 
deserves our particular attention. " I be- 
held," said he, " among the simple ones, a 
young man void of understanding ;^' and 
in another place he designates those who 
" make a mock at sin, asjbols ;" although 
they consider themselves as alone the wise 
men of the earth, and treat with ridicule 
and contempt the humble worshipper of 
Israel's God. Thus, no doubt, the un- 
happy prodigal thought and acted. He 
congratulated himself upon his superior 
sagacity in having discovered for himself 
a smooth flowery path, instead of the 
thorny track along which he once tra- 
velled, which seemed to goad his feet at 
almost every step ; and if the name of 
Solomon ever occurred to him, he repro- 
bated his folly for saying that " wisdom's 
ways," that is, the ways of religion, are 
the only " ways of pleasantness." It is 
true that he probably had some occasional 
pangs of remorse, for sober intervals men 



LECTURE II. 45 

must and will have. They cannot always 
be in a tavern, nor always in company. 
The voice of the " Lord God will be 
heard in the cool of the day;'' but this 
voice is soon silenced and stifled : or if 
not, it is sought again to be drowned in 
the cup of intoxication, until at last it 
yields the contest, for " the Spirit will not 
always strive with man." 

Here, then, take your stand, and gaze 
upon this man of pleasure, ** drawing," as 
the prophet says, " siri as it were with a 
cart rope,'^ drinking in iniquity like water, 
" committing all uncleanness with greedi- 
ness." He was now in possession of all 
that his heart could desire. Yet in what 
did his happiness consist ? He revelled 
in all the pleasures of intoxication ; pos- 
sibly he defiled the marriage bed, seduced 
and ruined unsuspecting innocence, squan- 
dered away his property at the gaming 
table ; he had the pleasure of laughing at 
the laws of his country, at the religion of 
his fathers, at all rules of decency and 



46 LECTURE II. 

virtue, at every body who would not run 
with him to the same excess of riot ; per- 
haps too, he had the gratification of blas- 
pheming the name of the God who made 
him. Is this a mark of wisdom, a proof 
of understanding ? Yet this was the con- 
summation of the prodigal's imaginary 
bliss ; he had no other title to happiness 
than that which we have read. How 
true is the remark, " there is a way which 
seemeth right unto man, but the end 
thereof are the ways of death." Think 
you, brethren, that the prodigal stands 
alone in the world ? or that he has no si- 
militude among the young men of this 
generation? Would that it were so! 
Would that the Redeemer was portray- 
ing only an imaginary picture ! Could 
the walls of this metropolis speak, they 
would tell us of many such unhappy chil- 
dren confined within their enclosure ; 
wanderers from their home, and from their 
God. Some we fear are eternally lost ; 
but others, like the prodigal, will find 



LECTURE 11. 47 

their way back to their Father's house. 
How many are there " who did run well, 
but Satan hindered them." The fairest 
flowers which once expanded their petals 
to the sun, in some little domestic planta- 
tion, with all the promise of becoming its 
brightest ornaments, have been suddenly 
blasted and withered when transplanted 
into the wilderness of the world. They 
have been unable to sustain the removal. 
The soil has proved so uncongenial to 
spiritual vegetation, and the atmosphere 
so destructive to spiritual life, that if they 
have not absolutely drooped and died, they 
have brought forth no fruit to perfection ; 
they have become therefore useless and 
unprofitable. The Spirit of God alone is 
competent to the great work of resuscita- 
tion. How many young persons of both 
sexes have arrived in this metropolis, hav- 
ing quitted their parental roof, some from 
necessity ; others from choice ; not a few, 
perhaps, by stealth, attracted hither by 
false expectations, which have allured 



48 LECTURE II. 

them from their home, to the inexpressible 
anguish of their afflicted friends, who 
mourn the consequences of their temerity. 
It may be that these children have brought 
with them all the habits and seeds of early 
piety, which, implanted by a tender 
mother, and watered by her tears, have 
grown "with their growth, and afforded a 
rich prospect of a glorious harvest in the 
appointed season. On launching forth 
into this sea of troubles and ocean of ini- 
quity, the minds of these youthful voy- 
agers are impressed with sorrow and dis- 
may at the scenes which they are called 
upon to witness ; so different from the 
piety and comparative purity of the rural 
retreat they have just left, the abode of all 
that once was near and dear to them. Sab- 
baths profaned, God dishonoured, his 
name blasphemed, his laws despised, ini- 
quity abounding, vice triumphant, virtue 
vanquished, lying prostrate in the dust. 
These are the things which force from the 
hearts of these inexperienced travellers 



' 



LECTURE II. 49 

many a groan, and from their eyes many 
a tear. But alas ! these honourable feel- 
ings are but of short duration. They 
soon begin to regard with indifference 
and apathy, what they so recently contem- 
plated with disgust and horror. They 
reconcile themselves to passing events, 
under cover of the misapplied proverb, 
** that what cannot be cured must be en- 
dured." New companions are formed, 
new principles are imbibed. Their former 
serious notions are ridiculed, voted either 
altogether obsolete, or as only adapted to 
the sick or dying chamber. The poison 
of infidelity is secretly instilled into their 
veins, which soon rapidly is diffused over 
the whole system, stagnating and putrefy- 
ing the fountain of life. Now commences 
the first act of their delinquency : they 
leave their heavenly Father's house. They 
are no longer on each returning sabbath 
to be found in the sanctuary of God. 
They withdraw themselves from the pro- 
tection of God, and own no allegiance to 

D 



50 LECTURE II. 

him. They no longer pray to him in 
public or in private. His word ceases to 
be the rule of their life, and his Spirit the 
guide and consolation of their life. They 
throw aside, as a thing of no reputation, as 
degrading and derogatory to their dignity, 
the mantle of Christ's religion, and seek 
to be arrayed in some gorgeous apparel, 
purchased at a costly price, from the tem- 
ple of fashion. 

Having thus surmounted all the bar- 
riers which early habits, reason, and re- 
ligion interpose, as the safeguards of 
their reputation, their honour, and their 
lives ; no longer regarding either God or 
man ; like the swine of the Gergesenes, 
under the maddening influence of the 
devils, they run violently down the steep 
places of iniquity into the sea of perdition, 
and are drowned in the ocean of eternal 
misery. Their professional avocations are 
now, for the most part, or entirely, aban- 
doned, or pursued only as a matter ofj 
drudgery or compulsion, to keep up an 



LECTURE II. 51 

appearance among their friends. The 
gratification of their passions is the sole 
object for which they seem to live ; every 
thing else is made subservient to this un- 
hallowed purpose. The theatre, the ball- 
room, the gaming table, the brothel, or 
the tavern, consume their strength, their 
time, and their property. They would 
try to subvert the laws of nature, and con- 
vert night into day, and day into night, 
shunning as it were the light of the sun, 
because their deeds are evil. They with- 
hold nothing from their possession which 
can gratify the eye, satiate the palate, or 
administer to their sensuality. Their 
maxim is to live while they live, to drown 
their cares in the vortex of pleasure, to 
enjoy the present moment as if futurity 
(if such there should be,) never would 
arrive ; to banish the fear of death by 
investing life with all the charms which 
imagination can conceive or luxury sup- 
ply. Thus in every respect they perso- 
nate the character of the unhappy youth 



52 LECTURE II. 

in the parable, and become prodigal and 
profligate in the worst and most extensive 
meaning of the appellation. 

Be assured, my dear young friends, that 
this is no imaginary or highly-coloured pic- 
ture, placed before your eyes merely to scare 
you from your delights. It is a faithful 
delineation of many an unhappy boy at 
this moment^ playing the part which is 
here assigned him. Perhaps even within 
these walls there may be at this moment 
one who has come hither in contempt and 
ridicule, who may recognize his own like- 
ness in the mirror held up to his view. 
If such there should be, I would arrest 
him in his progress, and detain him within 
these walls ; I wpuld beseech him not to 
be terrified at the features of deformity 
which he sees exhibited, nor to be dis- 
mayed at the hand-writing recorded I 
against him. Though I would have him 
disgusted at the representation, I would 
not drive him to despair. I would rather] 
entreat him to accompany us throughout 



LECTURE II. OO 

the remainder of these Lectures, and then 
we shall endeavour to show, that frig-htful 
as his present appearance may be, from 
which all persons shrink with disgust ; he 
may yet be transformed by divine grace 
into an image of beauty and loveliness 
which all will admire ; that a new creation 
may yet take place in his soul, so that he 
may entirely be divested of what is old 
in corruption and dead in sin, and come 
forth in all the freshness and newness of 
life, a glorious specimen of divine work- 
manship in Christ Jesus. I would lead 
him to see that the doors of his Father's 
house are not closed upon him for ever; 
that the wandering, wayward prodigal 
may yet become the returning penitent 
obedient son, and be welcomed back again 
to his home and his God. I would en- 
deavour to perform the office of the good 
Samaritan, and while beholding the youth- 
ful traveller wallowing in the mire, bleed- 
ing and wounded with satan's darts, 
more than half dead in his trespasses and 



54 LECTURE II. 

sins ; I would pour the oil of joj and 
gladness into the putrefying sores. I 
would administer the restorative balm, 
and convey him to that Physician, who 
has only to speak the word to ensure a 
complete restoration to strength and to 
life. But why do I apply the term pro- 
digal only to the unhappy subject of this 
parable, or to any one particular class of 
persons ? We are all prodigals by nature — 
prodigality and humanity are inseparably 
connected. We seize upon the portion 
of goods which has been allotted to us 
by our heavenly Father, and appropriate 
it at best to our own, but most commonly 
to the service of satan. We have been 
prodigal of our time, our talents, our 
property, our strength, our energies ; 
wasting our substance, if not in riotous, 
at least in useless and unprofitable living ; 
expending it merely in the advancement, 
as we conceive, of our worldly interests ; 
more intent in promoting our own, than 
the glory of God. Arguing in the ge- 



LECTURE IT. 55 

nuine spirit of infidelity, ** that we have a 
right to do what we will with our own," 
we dedicate our Master's property to pur- 
poses of self-aggrandisement, and self- 
gratification ; in fact, committing a rob- 
bery on God to enrich ourselves. In- 
dulge then no longer the spirit of self- 
congratulation, that because you are not 
prodigals to the same extent, or after the 
similitude of the young man whose his- 
tory we are now sketching, that you are 
therefore exempt altogether from the 
charge of prodigality. No ! let us plead 
guilty to the general bill of indictment, 
and throw ourselves on the mercy of our 
justly offended, but reconciled, Father in 
Christ Jesus. 

Do the Scriptures then forbid all 
prodigality ? just the reverse ; there is 
a species which they strongly recom- 
mend and enforce. They exhort us 
to be prodigal of our prayers, of our 
praises, of our alms, of our penitential 
tears 5 of the expenditure of our strength 



56 LECTURE II, 

and energies in the service of our Re- 
deemer. They require us to consecrate all 
we have received to the service of the 
donor. Here it is that profusion is ex- 
tolled ; for we can never do enough for 
Him who has done so much for us. Pro- 
digality of this kind will tend to enrich- 
ment not to poverty ; it will ennoble 
and exalt, not degrade or debase, the 
Christian character. I call then upon 
you all ; the man with the ten talents, 
and the man with the one talent, to an act 
of prodigality in the service of your Re- 
deemer. Expend all that you have ; all 
your portion, whether of property or of 
vitality, freely and profusely for your 
Master's honour and glory. Look at 
Gethsemane's garden. Look at Calvary's 
cross. Then if you can, if you are base 
enough, if you are hardy enough, waste 
your substance in riotous living; but 
mark the consequence ! Know " that for 
all these things God will bring you into 
judgment." But I would not leave you 



LECTURE II. 57 

at the judgment-seat, without showing" 
you the way to the mercy-seat. I need 
not bespeak your attendance here again, 
for the readiness with which you assemble 
together proves, that you are as willing 
to hear as I am to preach. Should we 
be permitted to conclude our course of 
lectures, we shall prove that our object is 
to humble you merely to exalt you ; to 
conduct you all to the knowledge of him 
who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. 
May God of his infinite mercy grant, 
that many of you who are now assembled 
before me, may be enabled to exclaim, 
" We have found Him of whom Moses 
in the law and the prophets did write," 
Jesus Christ the righteous ; and experi- 
mentally know him to be our God, our 
Father and our Saviour. 



D5 



58 



LECTURE III. 

Luke XV. 14 15, 16. 

And when he had spent all, there arose a 
mighty famine in that land ; and he be- 
gan to he in want. And he went and 
joined himself to a citizen of that country ; 
and he sent him into his fields to feed 
swine : and he would fain have filled his 
helly with the husks that the swine did 
eat : and no man gave unto him. 

We introduce you this evening to the 
prodigal youth basking in the sunshine 
of his prosperity ; like the great Levia- 
than rolling about and taking his pastime 
in the ocean of his delights. Unfettered,^ 
and unrestrained by a parent's eye, he was 






LECTURE III. 59 

now enabled to give the rein to his un- 
bridled appetite. But was he happy? 
To be quite happy we must do every 
thing, have every thing, and be every 
thing that we can wish. We must be 
unconfined in our powers, unlimited 
in our possessions, and infinite in our 
nature. We must exchange our depen- 
dency as creatures for the indepen- 
dency of the Creator, and become nothing 
less than deity itself. It is folly there- 
fore to attempt to discover complete hap- 
piness ; though the object is pursued by 
many with as much ardour as if it were 
attainable. Of course, we now speak of 
earthly happiness. Thanks be to God for 
the discovery in Christ Jesus, there is a po- 
sitive, complete happiness which is attain- 
able, but not on earth ; where there will 
be the consummation of bliss, the perfec- 
tion of pleasure, in the presence and in 
the possession of deity. " There are," 
says the pious Cecil, '* but two states in 
the world which may be pronounced 



60 LECTURE III. 

happy ; either that of the man who re- 
joices in the h'ght of God's countenance, 
or that of him who mourns after it." But 
was this spendthrift even as happy as he 
anticipated ? We may safely answer in the 
negative ; for in the pursuit of worldly 
enjoyment how rarely does it happen 
that we realize even half the workings of 
our imagination ! Some one thing is 
always wanting which eludes our grasp. 
This one deficiency makes us miserable. 
Like a spoiled child who tramples upon 
all its playthings because some one thing 
is refused, we are ready to quarrel with 
the ninety-and-nine blessings we possess, 
because the hundredth is not within our 
immediate compass. But admit, if you 
please, that this prodigal was not disap- 
pointed in the expectations he had formed 
of earthly bliss; there was one thing on 
which he had not calculated — that it was 
to be short in its duration. The means 
of self-gratification were soon exhausted ; 
the fountain of his felicity was about to 



LECTURE III. 6l 

be dried up by the sun of prosperity. 
We have read " that he wasted his sub- 
stance in riotous living." 

This is one prominent feature which is 
characteristic of youth, thoughtlessness, 
want of consideration, disregard offatu- 
rity ; so that the generality of young men, 
having miserably perverted the meaning, 
rigidly adhere to the letter of our Lord's 
admonition, *' Take no thought for the 
morrow, for the morrow shall take 
thought for the things of itself." Present 
enjoyment is their exclusive object ; and 
with the sentiment and recklessness of 
infidelity, they ** live each day as 'twere 
the last." Their conduct proves, with- 
out the confession of the lips, that this 
is their doctrine, " Let us eat and drink, 
for to-morrow we die." Such was the 
case with the prodigal in the parable. 
Ignorant of the world, unacquainted 
with the nature and value of property, 
he knew not hov/ soon riches take to 
themselves wings and fly away. Little 



62 LECTURE III. 

did he conceive the instability and uncer- 
tainty of human glory, and human hap- 
piness ; that they flit from our eyes as 
a vision of the night. But this lesson 
he was immediately and painfully to learn. 
He was about to feel -the effects of his 
precipitation and waywardness. 

We have hitherto been occupied in 
viewing his imaginary prosperity j we 
will now solicit your attention to his real 
poverty and degradation. We are in- 
formed " that when he had spent all, 
there arose a mighty famine in the land, 
and he began to be in want." How rapid 
and easy is the descent from the summit 
of human grandeur to the depth of hu- 
man misery ! This was the natural result 
of the young man's profligacy ; but he 
perceived it not, until it was forced upon 
his attention by painful experience. What 
an alteration in our position will a iew 
hours only efl'ect! Who can tell what to- 
morrow may produce ? Here is an indi- 
vidual one moment revelling in all the 



LECTURE III. 63 

luxury and splendour whicli wealth can 
purchase ; in a few days afterwards re- 
duced to the greatest extremity of want 
and wretchedness. And what added to 
his affliction, was, that there arose, not 
a common, but a * ** mighty famine in the 
land." Hunger under any circumstances 
is a burden difficult to be borne : but how 
much are its horrors augmented, when it 
is immediately consequent on extravagant 
profusion, and has been occasioned by ex- 
travagant conduct ! Such was the case in 
the instance before us ; the young man 
was the author of his own misery ; his 
own suicidal hands had prepared for him- 
self the instruments of destruction. He 
had no where to lay the blame but upon 
himself; for although there was a great 
famine in the land, yet with his ample 
property, and with common prudence, it 
is more thaa probable that he would have 
been raised at least above the pressure of 
want. But now he stands in need even 
of the necessaries of life : so that although 



64 



LECTURE III. 



the famine contributed to increase, it did 
not occasion his wretchedness. He pos- 
sessed within himself all the means of a 
comfortable subsistence, probably for the 
period of a long* life ; but he preferred 
squandering the whole away, perhaps, in 
a few months, in excess and debauchery. 
In the language of the world, he deter- 
mined to live well, if he did not live long. 
This is the condition to which every pro- 
digal, sooner or later, must be reduced ; 
waste will inevitably lead to want. In- 
deed our Lord himself reads us a lesson 
of economy, and guards us against a waste- 
ful spirit : for after having fed the multi- 
tude to satiety in the wilderness, he bids 
the attendants " gather up the fragments 
that remain, that nothing be lost." What 
to us in one situation of life would be 
scraps and refuse, in another would af- 
ford a delicious morsel, which we should 
be glad to purchase at almost any price, 
for the sustenance of our bodies. 

This, then, is another step of his down- 



LECTURE in. 65 

fall which the profligate descended — po- 
nerty even to the extremity of want. 

The next in this scale of wretchedness, 
was degradation. We are informed that 
**he went and joined himself to a citizen of 
that country, and he sent him into his 
fields to feed swine \ and he would fain 
have filled his belly with the husks that 
the swine did eat ; and no man gave unto 
him." To what extremities are men dri- 
ven by their folly and wickedness. To 
dig he could not ; possibly he had so debi- 
litated himself by his debaucheries, that 
he was unfit for hard manual labour ; and 
to beg he was probably ashamed. He 
had recourse, therefore, to the only ex- 
pedient in his power ; that of offering 
his services, feeble and ineffectual as they 
were, to any individual who had compas- 
sion enough to accept them. He was 
glad to " crouch to any one for a morsel 
of bread." He met with a citizen, who 
probably seeing his wretched appearance, 
and judging him incapable of laborious 



66 LECTURE III. 

occupation, sent him into the fields to 
perform that most degrading and disgust- 
ing employment, the attendance upon 
swine. Had he assigned him a situation 
as shepherd, the post would have been 
one of honour and distinction ; such as 
had been occupied by some of the most 
remarkable scripture characters, as Ja- 
cob, Joseph, Moses, and David. But to 
feed the swine, was indeed an act of ser- 
vility, to which nothing short of beggary 
would stoop ; for these animals were 
deemed by their law to be most unclean, 
and polluting to the touch. Yet were the 
white delicate hands of this prodigal, un- 
accustomed even to administer to his own 
wants, required to cater for the bestial 
appetite of that animal, the very name of 
which was odious to the Jew. Nor 
was this the whole of his degradation. 
Such were the cravings of hunger, that 
coarse and revolting as the husks were, 
yet he would have been glad to have ap- 
peased the irritation of a corroded sto- 



LECTURE III. 67 

mach with such miserable diet ; yet 
even this was denied him. " No man 
gave unto him," and he was deterred 
either by a principle of fear, or honesty, 
from robbing- the swine to feed himself. 
Wretched, unhappy man that he was ! 
He who a short time before had enjoyed 
every delicacy and luxury which riches 
could procure, is now not permitted to 
make a meal with the swine which he is 
sent to attend. What a sight is here ! A 
man so lately " clothed in purple and fine 
linen, and faring sumptuously every day," 
now ready to quarrel with the swine for 
their disgusting garbage ; yet even this 
trivial gratification of sitting down to 
meat with the brutes of the earth was 
not permitted. His arbitrary, cruel mas- 
ter ranked him lower even than the 
vilest of the beasts which perish. Misery 
itself can scarcely imagine an object more 
pitiable than this unhappy youth ; with- 
out a home, without friends ; of whom 
it might be said, that no man cared either 



68 LECTURE III. 

for his soul or body. He was probably 
regarded with contempt by some who be- 
held him, but as an object of compassion 
by all. Here, then, let us pause awhile, 
and contemplate this humiliating portrait 
of self-delusion and self-degradation. 

If, my young friends, you have been at 
all tempted to behold, with invidious 
eyes, the prodigal when in the zenith of 
his prosperity, in possession of all his 
riches ; what now must be your emotions 
on gazing upon the wreck of his hap- 
piness ; and seeing the stream of his life 
strewed with shivered fragments of scat- 
tered property, shattered health, dissi- 
pated honours, blasted prospects ? Be as- 
sured that a similar fate awaits all those 
who are determined on embarking on a 
similar voyage of discovery in search of 
happinessc They will return, if permitted 
to return, wrecked in reputation, property 
and person. Perhaps I am addressing, 
at this moment, some individual who has 
already, or is about, to engage in the pe- 



LECTURE III. 69 

rilous enterprise. At all events, we 
must pull our bow at a venture, not 
knowing whither the arrow may direct 
its course; we shall, however, aim at 
piercing" the heart of some reckless wan- 
derer with striking* convictions. Pover- 
ty and hunger are the first and most 
pressing assailants at the door of profli- 
gacy and extravagance. They will take 
no denial, their importunities cannot be 
disregarded ; no stratagem or artifice can 
elude their vigilance. On the first failure 
of the resources of the unhappy spend- 
thrift, these unwelcome visitors are de- 
manding admittance ; and it not unfre- 
quently happens that he who has revelled in 
all the luxury of the land, would gladly be 
permitted to gather up the crumbs which 
fall from some rich, or even some poor 
man's table ; but none will give unto him. 
He has the mortification of finding hini" 
self an outcast from society. Could we 
penetrate with the eye of omniscience 
into all the scenes of wretchedness which 



70 LECTURE III. 

this metropolis could disclose, we should 
discover many a child of sorrow endur- 
ing* unspeakable sufferings ; sometimes 
the result of unforeseen and unavoidable 
occurrences ; but more frequently origi- 
nating* in conduct the most improvident, 
if not the most profligate and licentious. 
We could unfold to your view such dis- 
closures of pain and poverty, the bare 
recital of which would elicit a tear of sym- 
pathy from every hearer ; in which the 
principal actors are those who have play- 
ed some of the first characters in the great 
theatre of life, but are now pining away 
a miserable existence in the darkest ob- 
scurity, alike unknowing and unknown — - 
*' the world forgetting by the world forgot ! " 
But to the Christian prodigal there is 
something far more painful than these bo- 
dily deprivations. The spiritual depriva- 
tions of the soul — these are infinitely 
more acutely felt and deplored, inasmuch 
as the soul is more precious than the 
body 5 eternal misery more to be dreaded 



LECTURE III. 71 

than temporal. God speaking by the 
mouth of his prophet Amos, saith, '' Be- 
hold, the days come that I will send a 
famine in the land ; not a famine of bread, 
nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the 
words of the Lord." This is the famine 
most to be apprehended, and which, in the 
moments of serious reflection, the Chris- 
tian prodigal most particularly laments. 
He mourns over the loss of the bread of 
life, and the water of life, which alone are 
capable of affording nourishment to his 
soul ; and for want of which, all is cold- 
ness, unprofitableness, desolation, dead- 
ness. There is, indeed, a famine in the 
land ; a scarcity of divine grace in the 
soul. He has made himself a spiritual 
bankrupt ; he has wasted his substance by 
his riotous conduct : he has rejected 
the mercies of God, and all his gifts 
which were so profusely presented to 
him ; he has turned the grace of God 
into licentiousness ; he has quenched the 
operations of the "Holy Spirit, by the 



72 LECTURE III. 

waters of iniquity ; he has drowned the 
voice of conscience in the stream of sen- 
sual gratification. And for what has he 
bartered away these spiritual treasures ? 
For a little pleasure falsely so called ; for 
the baubles and trifles of life, which are 
light as air, when compared with the sub- 
stantial joys of eternity. Like Esau, he 
has sold his inestimable privileges, his he- 
reditary advantages, for a mess of pottage ; 
the mere momentary gratification of his 
carnal appetites. 1 know that it is diffi- 
cult to persuade those, who are strangers 
to the feeling, that more horrible pangs 
are the attendants on spiritual famine : 
they ridicule the notion as absurd ; nay, 
so complete is the delusion, they some- 
times fancy that they are fed to satiety ; are 
fat and well-liking, and see not that they 
are " poor, and destitute, and naked." But 
when their eyes are opened, like those of 
our first parents, to see their nakedness 
and destitution, there is nought in time 
which can satisfy their cravings ; there is 



LECTURE III. 73 

no garment which the world can afford 
which can conceal their deformity and 
cover their nakedness ; they are, indeed, 
of all persons the most miserable. Nor 
is their degradation less apparent, or more 
feebly deplored than their poverty. 

We have seen into what an abyss of 
shame and servitude the prodigal had 
lowered himself. A similar chasm is open- 
ing to receive all those who are treading 
in his steps. The path of vain glory at 
best leads but to the grave ; and the inter- 
mediate stages are often through the val- 
ley of humiliation and the slough of des- 
pond. There are multitudes at this mo- 
ment either performing some of the most 
menial offices of life, or are compelled to beg 
their bread from door to door, as the pe- 
nalty of their own imprudence and intem- 
perance, whose society was once courted 
by the votaries of fashion ; while others, 
more reckless of consequences, and more 
hardened in iniquity, have sought to re- 
pair their resources at the gaming table ; 

E 



74 LECTURE III. 

or else have perpetrated crimes which 
have ended in the loss of their liberty, 
and not unfrequently of their lives. 
*' Many," as the prophet Jeremiah says, 
" that did feed delicately, are desolate 
in the streets ; they that were brought 
up in scarlet, embrace dunghills.'^ Calcu- 
late not, my young friends, as many have 
done only to their disappointment, that 
in the hour of destitution, you will not 
be left alone ; that your former acquaint- 
ance and "" associates will flock around 
you, vying with each other to be first to 
open for your reception their houses, or 
to place at your command their person, 
or their property. Alas ! such is neither 
the habit nor the friendship of the world. 
From the christianized portion of man- 
kind you will meet with a share of sym- 
pathy ; perchance some unknown bene- 
factor, to whom the particulars of your 
situation have been communicated, will 
endeavour to mitigate its severity ; among 
those one may be found who will " stick 



LECTURE III. 7^ 

closer than a brother ; " though this friend 
must be sought for in heaven, in the 
person of Christ Jesus. The world in 
general will act the part of the Levite, 
" and look on, but pass by on the other 
side." What advantage did the young 
man in the parable gain from all his train 
of boasted friends, who ate and drank with 
him at his table, and had contributed to 
encompass his degradation ? Were their 
kindly hands now stretched forth to ex- 
tricate him from his difficulties^ Finding 
that the source of their enjoyments was 
dried up, and that reproach and disgrace 
had usurped the place which credit and 
honour had formerly occupied in con- 
nexion with his name, they turned their 
backs upon him, and left him to strug- 
gle alone, with the billows of adversity 
breaking over his head. This, be assur- 
ed, is an exact representation of human 
friendship. '* Men will praise thee," as 
saith the psalmist, ** when thou doest well 
to thyself." So long as we can adminis- 

E 2 



76 LECTURE III. 

ter to the enjoyment of others, we shall 
never want a crowd of admirers, and a 
host of flatterers. But let the scene be 
changed ; let poverty succeed to riches, 
destitution to affluence ; one by one our 
companions will desert us, until we are 
left alone unpitied, the scorn and deri- 
sion of all those who are round about us : 
nay, many will contemptuously disown 
any connexion or acquaintance with us ; 
and with the audacity of the apostle of 
old, when taxed with the discipleship of 
Christ, will exclaim, perhaps with the 
oath and with the curse, " I know not 
the man." Such is the friendship of the 
world ; and all who have been foolish 
enough to court its alliance, can bear me 
testimony that it smiles only to deceive ; 
that it is as false as it is fair. 

But there is a state of moral and spi- 
ritual degradation even still more to be 
deplored. It is a delusion to conceive 
that those who cast oif allegiance to God, 
and who will submit to none of those 



LECTURE III. 77 

salutary restraints which religion imposes, 
are altogether free and independent — 
liberated from every yoke. They are the 
veriest and vilest of slaves which imagina- 
tion can depict ; they are rivetted to the 
earth by chains the most oppressive, the 
most galling, and the most debasing. One 
of two masters we must serve , either 
Him "whose service is perfect freedom;" 
the great omnipotent Jehovah ; or him 
who is called by way of distinction the god 
of this world ; who rules his subjects with 
an iron sceptre. When once we with- 
draw ourselves from the paternal govern- 
ment of the merciful Jehovah, other lords 
will instantly get the dominion over us ; 
and we shall be led captive by satan at 
his will : nay, we shall be the slaves of 
many masters — slaves to ourselves, the 
worst of masters — to our own lusts and 
passions — our unhallowed appetites and 
unlawful imaginations — all contending for 
absolute sovereignty, and harassing us 
both by day and by night, until their con- 



78 LECTURE iir. 

tradictory but unceasing- demands are sa- 
tiated. Well might the apostle ask this 
question, " When ye were the servants 
of sin, what fruit had ye then in those 
things whereof ye are now ashamed ?^^ 
What more debasing, more brutalizing, 
than pandering to the gratification of our 
inordinate aifections, and evil concupis- 
cence ? What cringing must be resorted 
to; what servility must be endured; what 
baseness and stratagems practised, before 
the adulterous bed can be ascended, or 
female innocence defiled ! Nay, so sen- 
sibly does the adulterer feel the baseness 
and degrading quality of the action he is 
perpetrating, that it is usually wrought 
under cover of midnight darkness. He 
avoids the light of the sun, and the light 
of Christianity, lest his deed should 
proclaim that it is wrought by diabolical 
agency. Then again, what more swinish 
or brutalizing than drowning the senses 
in the cup of intoxication ? How foul, 
how really oppressive is the servitude of 



LECTURE III, 79 

this vice ! It degrades us in the scale of 
creation lower even than the beasts that 
perish. We may thus run through the 
whole catalogue of iniquity, but we must 
arrive at the same conclusion — that, in 
the eye of every sober man — in the opinion 
of every christianized mind — in the esti- 
mation of God himself, the most abject, 
servile character that dishonours the earth, 
is the votary of pleasure, the man of 
fashion, and the man of sin. Yet all the 
time he boasts of his liberty, and thinks 
that he alone is entitled to the term 
happy, and wise, and free. But the tongue 
of inspiration hath pronounced him to be 
both a fool and a slave. Where " the 
Spirit of the Lord is,^' not of satan, "there 
alone is liberty." 

But what were the benefits to be 
derived from this servitude, and what 
were the commensurate wages to be be- 
stowed by this imperious tyrant? Just 
what might have been expected — a mere 
nominal advantage, an imaginary good. 



80 LECTURE III. 

A little sensual pleasure, a little empty 
honour, a little vain glory — mere husks 
in comparison with the substantial fare 
which religion and the feast of a good con- 
science will surely provide. Scraps and 
refuse, when contrasted with that " meat 
which endures unto everlasting life.'^ 
Nor even of these can the servants of 
satan gain a sufficiency; for there is 
something imsatisfactory in them when 
possessed, and so fleeting in their nature, 
that a thousand circumstances may scatter 
them in a moment. Yet said the devil to 
his credulous victims, " All these things 
will I give you," that is, all whatsoever 
the world calls good, '* if you will only 
fall down and worship me.^^ But he 
was a liar from the beginning, and pro- 
mises only to deceive ; for the ungodly 
are disappointed even in this world's 
possessions ; they often find, like the pro- 
digal, that there is no man to give unto 
them. " The husks," says an old writer^ 
** of this world, are good enough for the 



LECTURE III. 81 

swine which feed upon them ; but the 
citizens of heaven require some more sub- 
stantial fare." Yet for these gilded trifles 
do multitudes barter the unsearchable 
and imperishable riches of Christ. Now 
this is just that sort of food which the 
world is administering to you, my young 
friends, at the present moment; but be- 
cause it is presented to you in a lordly 
dish, you think that you may taste there- 
of, nay, partake of it largely, and live. 

The principles which are sought to be 
inculcated in the present day by the emis- 
saries of satan, with such persevering in- 
dustry, will be found, on a minute ex- 
amination, to be subversive of all that is 
m Christian in doctrine, pure in principle, 
B and holy in practice. There is a spurious 
H|^ species of liberality, and of latitudina- 
^■i^ianism, which would dilute down to the 
standard of fallen humanity all the com- 
munications of the Spirit of God, of which 
^^ the Scriptures are the depositary ; so that 
l^every doctrine of revelation which cannot 

I 



82 LECTURE III. 

be comprehended by our limited under- 
standings, is rejected as an article of 
faith; an unlawful test of modern Chris- 
tianity, improper to compose the creed of 
a Christian population. Hence the at- 
tempt to fritter away the foundation- 
stone of the Christian church — the di- 
vinity of the Saviour, and the triune 
nature of Jehovah : — hence the daring* 
assaults against that structure, which hi- 
therto hath defied, and, in spite of dia- 
bolical malignity, will continue to defy, 
the gates of hell itself. Who sees not in 
all these transactions the spirit of infi- 
delity, seeking to blast with its withering 
influence some of the fairest plants in the 
Christian nursery ? We see it whitherso- 
ever we turn — in our various publica- 
tions, religious as well as irreligious. We 
see it in many of our daily, but particu- 
larly Sunday journals ; we see it in our 
public assemblies — at the bar, the senate, 
and at the theatre ; aye, and occasionally 
in the pulpit, at the church, where there 



LECTURE III. 83 

is too much attempt to seek popularity at 
the expense of principle — to secularize re- 
ligion — to make it amalgamate with 
worldly practice. " The church," says 
the venerable Cecil," has endured a pagan 
and a papal persecution ; there remains 
for her an infidel persecution, general, 
bitter, purifying, cementing." This pre- 
diction I verily believe is in course of 
fulfilment. The pride of intellect is the 
object of idolatrous worship, before whose 
altar, the time, the talents, the energies 
of the rising generation are to be immo- 
lated. The cry has gone forth, whatever 
else you get, get knowledge. Knowledge 
is power ; knowledge is wealth ; know- 
ledge is independence ; knowledge is 
every thing ; therefore get knowledge. 
We are ready to join in the general cry 5 
but then we say, let it be sanctified know- 
ledge. We do not fear the legitimate use, 
but the abuse of knowledge. Let human 
wisdom be made subservient to divine 
revelation. Esteem every other species 



I 



84 LECTURE III. 

of knowledge, however essential to the 
formation of the gentleman and scholar, 
as entirely nugatory, or worse than nu- 
gatorjj unless it be accompanied with 
a knowledge of yourselves, and of Jesus 
Christ and him crucified. Let the mind 
be well stored with sound scriptural 
principles and scriptural promises ; then, 
if you please, build upon these a super- 
structure of human literature ; otherwise 
you will be expending your strength and 
energies upon the baseless fabric of a 
vision, which the first breath of adversity 
will dissipate into air. 

One part of our ministerial office is to 
provide proper food for our flock. If you 
come to us beseeching bread, we will not 
give you a stone. We will not treat you as 
swine and feed you with husks; but we 
will set before you all the rich, wholesome 
jiutriment provided in the gospel; and 
tell you that unless you " eat the flesh of 
the Son of man," and partake of the 
bread of life, and drink the water of life, 



LECTURE III. 85 

ye shall surely die. Do not, then, my 
dear young friends, take " the children's 
bread and cast it to the dogs,^' as a thing 
of no reputation. " Know how to refuse 
the evil and choose the good ;" other- 
wise there will be a mighty famine in the 
land ; you will be in want, and perish 
with hunger. Behold, then, the rich, 
ample provision for your spiritual suste- 
nance in the gospel of our Lord Jesus 
Christ ! Hungry and thirsty, your souls 
fainting within you, here you may be fed 
to satiety. Oh ! reject not our invita- 
tions, lest it be found that with suicidal 
impiety you have destroyed yourselves, 
and die of a spiritual atrophy in the midst 
of gospel superabundance. 

Here then we stop ; but our picture of 
prodigality is not yet completed ; there is 
one feature more to be exhibited, which 
may have escaped your observation; but 
if you will favour us with your attendance 
again at our next lecture, we will attempt 
to delineate it ; and then to show the first 



86 LECTURE III. 

dawning of the prodigal's amendment. 
Retire to your respective houses ; seriously 
meditate on what has been said, and may 
God give you a right understanding in all 
things, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 



87 



LECTURE IV. 

Luke xv. 17, 

And when he came to himself, he said. 
How many hired servants of my fa- 
ther's have bread enough and to spare, 
and I perish with hunger ! 

Painful as it has been to contemplate 
the unhappy picture of prodigality as ex- 
hibited in the passage before us, we would, 
however, hope that it has kindled in your 
minds a horror of sin. It cannot but ex- 
cite our compassion to behold the time, 
the talents, the energies, of one who 
might have been an ornament to his 
country, prostituted to the vilest of pur- 
poses, and converting him into its bane 
and curse. Yet repulsive as the object 
unquestionably is, the portrait of misery. 



88 LECTURE IV, 

and degradation, is incomplete. One 
very important feature remains to be in- 
serted, in order that the resemblance to 
the original may be accurately traced. 
We behold something more than the ef- 
fects of folly or of youthful levity ; we 
see in the character before us actually the 
workings of a madman, and we are fully 
justified in this assertion by the expression 
in the text, " when he came to himself,'* 
which evidently implies that hitherto he 
had been beside himself; bereft of his 
reason, acting under the impulse of a fe- 
verish and frenzied brain. This is the last 
point we would notice in the consum- 
mation of the prodigaPs wretchedness; 
the climax of misery — his delirium and 
his madness. The man of pleasure, the 
libertine, in his own estimation, is alone 
entitled to the designation of a wise man ; 
but the pen of inspiration hath declared 
him to be a fool ; a man void of under- 
standing — a madman. Almost every ac- 
tion of his life denotes an aberration of 



LECTURE IV. 89 

intellect ; a state of mental degradation, 
which does not even rise so high as the 
instinct of the beasts that perish. " The 
ox knows his owner, and the horse his 
master's crib;" but this fool knows no- 
thing of his owner, the God who has a 
property in him, and who still, notwith- 
standing his waywardness, continues to 
feed him ; or if he knows him, he does not 
consider him. He seeks not his daily sus- 
tenance at the hand of his Master, but in 
the haughty spirit of impiety attempts to 
live independently of all, even of his God. 
Which of the brutes of the earth seeks to 
encompass the destruction of his own 
life, and pursues a course which must be 
detrimental to his existence ? Is not the 
preservation and elongation of life the 
first law of our nature ; the primary ob- 
ject of attainment by the whole animal 
creation ? Yet this fool, with all his fan- 
cied superiority of wisdom, is sporting 
with suicidal weapons, and is digging 
for himself a grave with his own hands, 



90 LECTURE IV. 

to contain the diseased fragments of a 
prematurely decayed body. Our Lord 
asks this question, " How much better is 
a man than a sheep ?" In some respects 
he is infinitely worse, and betrays a far 
greater degree of folly than even this pro- 
verbially simple animal ; but with all its 
simplicity, it knows its best friend, and 
hears and understands the voice of the 
shepherd. But this fool shuts his ears, 
and hardens his heart aofainst the calls 
of the best of friends, and will not attend 
to His monitory, parental, voice ; but 
with an equal degree of folly and infide- 
lity, he drowns his senses in the ocean of 
his delights, and renders himself insensi- 
ble to any call but that of death, which he 
is only accelerating, and whose accents he 
must hear, and instantly obey. Solomon 
says, that " madness is in the heart of 
sinners ;" and so it is ; for their extrava- 
gant conduct is to be accounted for on no 
other principle. What does St. Paul say 
of himself, when in his impious zeal he 



LECTURE IV. 91 

tried to extirpate the whole race of Chris- 
tians ? He confessed that " he was ex- 
ceedingly mad against them and perse- 
cuted them/' In what other way can we 
account for his rash, impetuous conduct? 
It seems but an act of common charity to 
say of him, that he knew not what he did. 
Is the Christian prodigal then more ra- 
tional ? Does he act in a manner which 
denotes greater soundness of intellect ? 
Nay, rather is he not a maniac of the first 
order ; of all men the most insane and 
the most to be pitied ? See him sporting 
with heavenly things, with all the levity 
and puerility of a child who takes no in- 
terest in any thing but its toys and play- 
things ; who would barter even these, 
precious as they are in his estimation, for 
a momentary gratification of a novel or 
higher order. See the prodigal trampling 
under his feet the crown of glory and 
sceptre of righteousness, with as little 
apparent concern as if he were walking 
upon a vain shadow j nay, here is the ma- 



9^ LECTURE IV. 

nifest token of his egregious insanity ; 
he pursues the shadovv with ten times 
more ardour than he does the substance ; 
he prefers the visionary delusion of the 
imagination to the absolute possession of 
the solid materials ; he actually exchanges 
the uncertain and imperishable riches of 
Christ, for a small bag of counterfeit 
coin ; which, although it may bear exter- 
nally some resemblance to the lawful 
money of the king, is in reality refuse and 
worthless. O ! we pity the insanity of 
those who are endeavouring, with ceaseless 
and breathless ardour, to gain possession 
of some fancied good, v/hich ten thou- 
sand circumstances may in a moment 
snatch from their enjoyment, or perhaps 
convert into an instrument of self-destruc- 
tion. We mourn over the folly of those, 
who with all their energies are seeking to 
" make provision for time, as if it would 
never end, and for eternity, as if it would 
never begin." Where are they to be 
placed? In reality, they have a greater 



LECTURE IV. 93 

claim upon our compassion, and infinitely 
more need our superintendence, than some 
of those wretched individuals who are in- 
carcerated within the confines of our lu- 
natic asylums. Many more deeds of in- 
sanity are committed without those wallsj 
by men who have a reputation for wis- 
dom, than are perpetrated within that in- 
closure, which philanthropy has erected, 
for the reception of such as are avowedly 
pronounced unfit to be thrown loose upon 
society, or entrusted with their own cus- 
tody. Yet do we find them pursuing a 
course which would infallibly ensure their 
eternal ruin ? The utmost we can say of 
them is, that if left to themselves they 
might encomipsiss their present destruction. 
But the spiritual prodigal, in a state far 
more demented, is rushing forwards to 
precipitate himself into an abyss of misery, 
which will destroy both body and soul in 
hell. Who in possession of his faculties 
would labour day and night to make him 
self miserable to all eternity, when he 



94 LECTURE IV. 

might ensure, with far less trouble, an 
eternity of happiness ? Who, not bereft 
of his reason, would prefer the carnal en- 
joyment of a brute to the spiritual de- 
lights of an angel, nay, of God himself? 
We libel not, then, the prodigal, when 
we say of him, that he is a madman* But 
it was self-created madness, the natural, 
if not necessary result, of his licentious 
and intemperate conduct. He was the 
author of his own misery. He wished 
to become his own master, but the event 
proved, that he was his own slave. If 
God were to abandon us to ourselves 
only for a few moments, we should have 
little occasion to boast of the superiority 
either of our intellect or of our reason. 
" Man being in honour," says the 
psalmist, " may be compared to the beasts 
that perish." He might have added 
that he will be surpassed in wisdom 
by the beasts that perish — that the com- 
parison will be greatly to man's disadvan- 
tage. 



LECTURE IV. 9o 

In this moral frenzy, then, was the pro- 
digal in the parable. His whole conduct 
proves the excited state of his brain, even 
to madness. Indeed, to this very hour 
the sentiment has become proverbial ; for 
when we see an individual abandoning 
liimself to profligate, licentious habits, 
gratifying his unlawful passions at the ex- 
pense of all that he possesses, his pro- 
perty and his life, we commonly say of 
him, that he must be mad. 

We have now completed the painful 
part of our subject, our picture of human 
depravity and its consequent misery. We 
shall in future be occupied with the more 
pleasing task of attempting to delineate a 
faint sketch of divine mercy. We have 
not sought to portray the character be- 
fore us in any other than its natural 
colours ; or to call in the aid of em- 
bellishment or imagination, to make the 
portrait of deformity more revolting ; we 
have merely attempted to lay before you 
a simple exhibition of natural corruption. 



96 LECTURE IV. 

as it meets our eye in the person of the 
unhappy prodigal. We have traced him 
through all the wiles and intricacies of 
his vicious career, and beheld him playing 
many parts on the stage of life ; one mo- 
ment strutting away in all the pride of 
conscious power and affluence ; the next 
pining away in the most abject poverty 
and degradation ; proving to us that the 
descent from the summit of vain-glory 
to the abyss of human misery is both 
rapid and easy. One false step not un- 
frequently will decide our fate, and plunge 
us headlong into the gulph of destruction. 
The beginning of sin, as the beginning of 
strife, is, as when one letteth out water ; 
you cannot arrest its progress or prescribe 
bounds for its inundation. " Abstain, 
therefore, from all appearance of evil ;" 
nor despise the day of small things, either 
in the commencement of a career of vice 
or of virtue. 

Gaze, then, upon this portrait of hu- 
man wretchedness, nor unfix your eyes 



LECTURE IV. 97 

from the contemplation, until you have 
imbibed a horror of that sin which has 
thus defiled and defaced the fairest fea- 
tures of our nature ; until you have been 
enabled to adopt the resolution that you 
will " go your way and sin no more, lest 
a worse thing come unto you." The pro- 
digal in the text had arrived at this con- 
clusion, and such was the sentiment which 
was already kindled in his bosom. Hi- 
therto we have regarded hiai only with 
emotions of pain and disgust; as a warn- 
ing beacon to every youthful traveller to 
avoid his contagious example. We shall n o w 
call upon you to behold the bright side of 
the picture, where we shall discern much 
that is worthy of admiration and imitation. 
The first act in the career of penitence 
which we notice is that of deliberation. 
We read that ** the prodigal came to him- 
self." He began to think — to reflect — 
calmly to survey his past career ; he re- 
gained the possession of bis faculties, and 
the light of reason and religion began to 

F 



98 LECTURE IV. 

dawn upon his soul ; the candle of the 
Lord illumined his darkness. He seemed 
to be like one awaking from a midnight 
slumber, or like a man having burst the 
confines of the grave, rising again to 
newness of life. Indeed the sacred writers 
employ this imagery to describe the re- 
surrection from a state of sin. St. Paul, 
in writing to the converted Ephesians, 
reminds them that they were dead in 
sin, but that they had now been quick- 
ened by grace, and raised up by Jesus 
Christ. And, in another place, addressing 
the sinner, he says, " Awake, thou that 
sleepest, and arise from the dead, and 
Christ shall give thee light." This was 
the state of the prodigal. The delusion 
had vanished from his eyes ; it had passed 
away as a dream of the night. He was 
no longer besotted in the arms of sleep, 
but awake and become alive to his sin, 
his degradation and ruin. In address- 
ing his perverse, rebellious, apostatizing 
people, " Thus saith the Lord God, Con- 



LECTURE IV. 99 

sider your ways." The young- spendthrift 
began, for the first time, to halt in his 
progress. He looked back upon the course 
which he had hitherto been pursuing ; he 
looked forward into that gulph of destruc- 
tion, yawning to receive him if he con- 
tinued to advance. He could discern 
nothing before him but desolation and 
misery. He was appalled at the sight, 
and doubtless in the bitterness of his an- 
guish he cried out, *' O wretched man 
that I am, who shall deliver me from the 
body of this death ? " But he stood alone ; 
none to intercede for him ; none to help 
him ; without a friend to sympathize with 
him, if he could do no more ; nay, with- 
out a companion, save the swine which 
he was compelled, by the pressing de- 
mands of hunger, to attend ; and with 
whom, if permitted, he would have sat 
down to meat. He was indeed of all 
men the most miserable. There was he, 
lately caressed by hundreds, the envy of 
all who knew him, now left to drag- out 

F 2 



100 LECTURE IV. 

alone a miserable existence, despised by 
some, but deserted by all, save by one, 
who, as the sequel will show, had not cast 
him off — the God whom he had so griev- 
ously offended ; his Father, whose laws 
he had violated, whose loving-kindness he 
had so resolutely perverted into an occa- 
sion of licentiousness. But although ex- 
ternally he was destitute of every thing that 
could confer happiness, this valley of hu- 
miliation was only the path which was to 
conduct him through its intricate windings 
to the abode of peace and blessedness. 

It is good for us all to be afflicted — 
to be made to bow our heads like a bul- 
rush to the storm of adversity. Afflic- 
tions, when sanctified by divine grace, 
are often rendered mighty to arrest the 
progress of some daring sinner — to con- 
vince him of the error of his ways — and 
to point out to him the path that leads to 
heaven. It is the season of prosperity 
which is fatal to our health and happiness, 
and dries up the well-springs of life : as 



LECTURE IV. 101 

an old writer observes, " it is the sunshine 
that brings the serpent from his hole." 
More children perish from being pam- 
pered in the soft lap of luxury, than from 
being rocked in the hard rustic cradle of 
poverty. The sword of temptation, sharp- 
ened by lust, hath committed more havoc 
among mankind at home, than ever the 
steel sword of the warrior hath pierced in 
the field of battle abroad. When we are 
minished, or brought low, by reason of 
any sickness, any affliction of body or 
soul, any sense of spiritual un worthiness, 
helplessness, or desertion, we seem com- 
pelled to seek for consolation and de- 
liverance elsewhere than in ourselves or 
in the world. Having found the in- 
sufficiency of any thing earthly to afford 
the restorative balm, or to mitigate the 
thrilling horror of our bosom ; having 
learnt by painful experience that " vain is 
the help of man ;" driven out of our 
strongholds, as we have deemed them, 
we fly for succour and for refuge to the 



102 LECTURE IV. 

arm of Omnipotence, and are not dis- 
appointed. This was the case with our 
prodigal. He felt all the hori:ors of his 
destitution and degradation, but he felt 
still more acutely the pangs of an awak- 
ened, a guilty conscience, which no effort 
could remove, no human remedies could 
alleviate. " A wounded spirit who can 
bear," or subdue ? Like the afflicted and 
distracted gaoler at Philippi, he began 
earnestly to make the inquiry, " What 
must I do to be saved ? " To remain in 
his present position was death ; to return 
to the place from whence he had just gone 
out, was damnation. His mind, no doubt, 
was the scene of much conflicting opinion 
as to the most adviseable and legitimate 
course to be pursued. He took a review 
of his past life ; he compared his present 
state of indigence to his once flourishing 
state of affluence. His thoughts, by a 
natural process, reverted to his once 
dearly beloved father, and all the advan- 
tages and blessings w4iich, as a dutiful son, 



LECTURE IV. 103 

he enjoyed under his parental roof. He 
made an invidious comparison between 
the inferior members of his parents' do- 
mestic establishment, and himself as one 
of the children. " How many hired ser- 
vants of my father have bread enough 
and to spare, and I perish with hunger?" 
The folly of his former conduct, in having 
so rashly abandoned his father's house, 
now flashed upon his mind with all the 
vividness and force of lightning. His lips 
would only give utterance to the language 
of self-condemnation and self-abhorrence. 
He found to his cost that, painful as he 
imagined his situation to be, whilst under 
the control of his father's eye, and under 
subjection to his father's commands, he 
was now in circumstances far more piti- 
able, and encountering a servitude far 
more degrading. The conviction was 
forced upon him that the wages of sin 
was disgrace and death. We can well 
imagine in what bitter terms he re- 
proached himself for his reprobate and 



104 LECTURE IV. 

resolute determination to quit the land of 
his nativity — to take the reins of go- 
vernment into his own hands, when he 
was totally ignorant of the first principles 
of self-control. What now had become 
of all his boasted strength, and his su- 
perior powers of discernment? Emaci- 
ated in body and attenuated in soul, he 
stood confessed before God and man, a 
fool in all his folly. Doubtless that which 
imparted an additional sting to the up- 
braidings of his conscience, was the re- 
miniscence of the affectionate treatment 
he had received whilst a sojourner at 
home. The fond look of pleasure or of 
pain, beaming from his father^s eye ; the 
parental exhortation ; the extorted expos- 
tulation ; the tender remonstrance j the 
mild, yet dignified, and justly- merited 
tone of rebuke ; nay, the positive com- 
mands of his father, were now all en- 
deared to him ; and recurred to his mind 
with an impulse which was irresistible, 
tearing open his bleeding wounds. Had 



LECTURE TV. 105 

he been driven from the scene of his 
youthful days by the severity and unna- 
tural conduct of a cruel father, forcing 
him from his doors, there might have 
been in this reflection some mitigation of 
his sorrow ; but it was just the reverse. 
He was a voluntary exile ; an exile against 
his father's entreaties, who had displayed 
towards him all those tokens of affection 
which are engendered in the heart of a 
fond parent towards a beloved child. He 
was, the refore, with out even a shadow of an 
excuse. This it was, doubtless, that shar- 
pened the edge of the prodigal's anguish, 
and plunged the arrow of conviction into 
the inmost recesses of his soul ; inflicting 
a pang which he could neither mitigate 
nor endure. 

View, then, the subject through a spi- 
ritual medium. Conviction fastens upon 
the sinner's souL His sins are arrayed 
in judgment before him. Their magni- 
tude and number appal him. He is con- 
founded at the sight. He knows not 

f5 



106 



LECTURE IV. 



whither to fly. He seriously laments his 
past folly, and mourns in strong accents 
of unavailing regret, the situation into 
which he is plunged, and from which at 
present he scarcely sees a hope of extrica- 
tion. He halts in his career. He looks 
back upon the path along which he has 
traversed, and forward to that which is in 
prospect. In accents of strong lamenta- 
tion and bitter reproach, he calls to his 
remembrance the hour in which he left 
his Father^s house, the temple of his God, 
and notes it down as the most wretched 
of his existence. Perhaps, in the bitter- 
ness of his soul, he adopts the sentiment 
of Job, and says, *' Let the day perish 
wherein I was born, and the night in 
which it was said, there is a man-child 
conceived." He now hungers and thirsts 
after that righteousness which he lately 
despised ; and sees the inability of the 
present things of time to satisfy his famish- 
ed soul. He envies the privileges of 
those whom he has left behind, who are 



LECTURE IV. 107 

still permitted to " enter into the courts 
of the Lord's house," none making them 
afraid or ashamed. He sees that for the 
humblest servant in God's house there is 
not only bread enough and to spare ; but 
" wine and milk, without money and 
without price ;" nay, a *' feast of fat 
things," capable of enriching the soul unto 
eternal life ; so that even the meanest of 
God's servants is luxuriating in all the 
riches of the gospel, while he is pining 
away with hunger, deluded by specious 
promises in the slavery of satan. Gladly 
would he now be permitted to occupy 
any station under Him " whose service 
is perfect freedom :" most joyfully would 
he become ** a door-keeper in the house 
of God ;" he would willingly be made a 
" hewer of wood, and drawer of water^' 
in the service of the tabernacle, rather 
than dwell as he has done in the tents of 
ungodliness. He would rather serve in 
heaven than reign in hell ; or, in the 
words of Luther, " he would rather fall 



108 LECTURE IV. 

with Christ than reign with Caesar." O ! 
he envies " the sparrow which hath found 
her an house, and the swallow which hath 
built her a nest around the altar of God," 
and esteems " one day spent in His courts, 
as better than a thousand elsewhere," 
though decked out in all the finery which 
the world can display. His heart may 
be said to pant after, and his soul to thirst 
after the living God. Fired with a holy 
and righteous self- indignation ; perishing 
with a famine of the word of God ; naked, 
destitute, and defenceless, without the 
sword of God ; a fugitive and a vaga- 
bond, he determines on retracing his steps, 
and imploring to be admitted again into 
the household and family of God. 

Our limits will not permit us to-night 
to see him carrying his determination into 
execution ; but we leave him in a much 
more favourable situation than we found 
him on the last occasion. He is come to 
himself; or, we may with more propriety 
say, that the Spirit of God is come to 



LECTURE IV. 109 

lim, to convince him of his sin ; he feels 
its bondage, and earnestly does he desire 
to be delivered from its captivity. Though 
5till in a far country, he is about to re- 
turn, and has set his face towards Zion. 
1th full intention of purpose, he deter- 

lines to walk in newness of life, and to 
inquire for the " good old ways," which 

le once traversed so peacefully and so 
pleasantly, had he only been conscious 
of his happiness ; but alas ! he was at 
that time panting to explore some untried 
path, and to satiate his thirst for novelty 
at some forbidden or unexplored foun- 
tain. A few steps more and he would 
have been irrecoverably lost. 

See, my young friends of either sex, 
whither a sense of your own misery and 
destitute situation should conduct you — 
back again to your Father's house. Con- 
sider every pang you suffer, every de- 
privation you endure, every misery that 
bathes your cheeks with tears, as so many 
gracious calls of God to arrest you in 



110 LECTURE IV. 

your perilous career. It is God sending 
his special messengers after you to invite 
you to return ; to beckon you back again 
to your home ; yea it is God himself 
speaking to you and saying, " Return, 
ye backsliding children." In the hour 
of tribulation fly on the wings of devo- 
tion to God ; not on the wings of impiety 
^wsiYfiom him. Never attempt to take 
the remedy for your wrongs and wretch- 
edness into your own hands ; they can- 
not be in worse. See whither the 
atheist, the infidel, the scorner, the un- 
godly of every description, betake them- 
selves in the hour of tribulation. They 
know of no cordials or palliatives 
but such as the world provides. They 
know of no other quarter from whence 
help can be procured than their fellow 
man. They ransack the whole world in 
search of some restorative balm ; but the 
world says, It is not in me. ** They run to 
and fro, seeking rest but finding none.'^ 
They endeavour to drown the voice of 



LECTURE IV. Ill 

conscience in the cup of intoxication. In 
the sober interval, however, it must be 
heard ; but it is heard only to goad them 
on to madness and despair. Taught by 
their infidel creed and devilish master, to 
disbelieve in a future state of responsibi- 
lity, they seek to terminate their present 
sufferings by present death ; with suici- 
dal impiety, they unwittingly launch 
themselves into the presence of that God, 
whose existence they have either pre- 
tended to doubt, or whose power they 
have presumed to defy. Could we draw 
aside the veil of time, and look into eter- 
nity, we should see many a wretched 
victim of self destruction agonizing in the 
unquenchable flame ; because with dar- 
ing impiety he resisted the authority of 
his Maker, and sought to redress, by expe- 
dients of his own invention, his imaginary 
grievances ; because in the spirit of infi- 
delity, (claiming for himself the right to 
do what he wills with his own,) he dis- 
posed of himself as seemeth him good, 



112 LECTURE IV. 

by the halter, the sword, or the bullet ; 
and bequeathed his vile inglorious body 
an immediate legacy to the worms and 
corruption, and his soul to the fearful 
executioners of divine indignation. But 
mark the different conduct of the Chris- 
tian penitent. He looks upwards for 
help : his eyes are directed towards his 
Father's house. In the full assurance of 
hope, and expectation of being recog- 
nized by him, he implores his aid, and casts 
himself upon his mercy ; " the name of 
the Lord is his strong tower, he runs into 
it and is safe." 

Lastly. Contemplate the long suffering 
and forbearance of God as manifested 
through Jesus Christ towards his rebel- 
lious people, with such undeviating con- 
stancy. Did this stripling go alone, unat- 
tended into a far country ? Went not the 
eye of God with him ? Though he had re- 
jected God, and discarded him from his 
thoughts, self being the only object of 
adoration, yet would not God abandon 



LECTURE IV. lis 

him^r ever; though he did for a season, 
in order to make him feel the consequences 
of his wayward conduct, to drive him 
into obedience ; but he would not finally 
cast him off. He had a design of mercy 
towards him which must be accomplished. 
In his own appointed time he brought him 
to himself ; he spake to him by the still 
small whisper of his Spirit ; he called 
him to himself by the voice of affliction. 
Had not God thus searched him out, and 
dragged him from his unhallowed haunts, 
without doubt he would have perished 
everlastingly. But such is the way of 
God. He sends his dearly and only be- 
gotten Son on a special embassy of mercy, 
" to seek and to save that which was 
lost." He draws us to himself by the 
cords of love ; or else he follows us with 
the rod, and lashes us back again into the 
paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 
He is still engaged in this gracious work 
of recalling the wanderer, and reclaiming 
the prodigal. He still sustains his charac- 



114 LECTURE IV. 

ter as the " long-suffering God, plenteous 
in goodness and truth." Do you ask for 
a proof of this ? Cast your eyes around 
this congregation ; we see here no feeble 
testimony of the forbearance of God ; 
for had he remunerated us according to 
the measure of our iniquity, weighed in 
the balance of justice, we should not have 
been congregated beneath this roof, but 
the doom that is pronounced upon the 
soul that sinneth must have been ours. 
O ! then let this " goodness of God lead 
you to repentance.'^ Why will you perish 
in the wilderness, with the door of your 
Father's house standing open to receive 
you? Arise then, and act as the prodigal 
did, as we shall endeavour to show in our 
next lecture, if spared to deliver it. 



115 



LECTURE V. 

Luke xv. 18, 19, 20. 

/ will arise and go to my Father, and 
will say unto him, Father, I have sin- 
ned against heaven and before thee, and 
am no more worthy to he called thy son, 
make me as one of thy hilled servants. 
And he arose and came to his Father, 

Such was the wise determination, and 
such the instantaneous execution of the 
prodigal's purpose. It was the sugges- 
tion of heaven. That he did, he did 
quickly. Delay in his case would not 
only have been dangerous, but fatal ; mi- 
sery and destruction were at the door. 
This was no time for hesitation ; he must 
either be presently extricated from his 
critical situation or immediately perish. 



116 LECTURE V. 

He did not remain long- in the posture 
of deliberation where we left him on the 
last occasion. The recollection of his 
father's kindness, the fond endearments 
of the parental roof, contrasted with his 
present abject poverty and degradation, 
recurred to his mind with a force it was 
impossible to resist. The school of ad- 
versity disciplines the soul for a glorious 
eternity; like the law, it brings us to 
Christ. 

The mourning son knew well the cha- 
racter of his father ; that he was not an 
austere or implacable tyrant, spurning the 
petitioner from his presence ; that the 
avenues of his heart were not closed 
against every approach of misery and des- 
titution. He had probably seen the tear 
of compassion in his father's eye, excited 
on many occasions by the recital of a 
stranger's woes ; would he forbid it then 
to flow when his so?i solicited his sympa- 
thy ? or turn a deaf ear to the cries of 
his own boy, supplicating only a morsel 



LECTURE V. 117 

of bread at his hands ? It could not be ! 
His nature must indeed be strang-ely al- 
tered, if he could turn from his doors the 
child to whom he himself had given ex- 
istence ; and this too a supplicating, 
perishing, penitent child ; his youngest 
child : a child on his knees suing for ad- 
mittance. Oh ! he felt it was impossible ; 
his father would then have forfeited all 
title to the very name of father. He 
would have been a monster in creation. 

We read indeed of the ** ostrich, who 
layeth her eggs in the dust ; who is har- 
dened against her young ones, as though 
they were not hers, because God hath de- 
prived her of wisdom ;" but she is desig- 
nated as cruel, and become proverbial 
for the desertion of her offspring. " Yea," 
says the prophet Jeremiah, **^even the sea- 
monsters draw out the breast, they give 
suck to their young ones." Can it be, 
then, that man, the last and best of God's 
works, created after his own similitude, 
should betray so little of that character- 



118 LECTURE V. 

istic emblem of Deity, love, as to force not 
only from his embrace, but from the very 
threshold of his house, the son whom he 
has begotten ? 

At all events, the prodigal was deter- 
mined to put his father's kindly feelings 
to the test- Though he was now a great 
way off ; far removed not only from the 
spot, but from the land of his nativity ; 
he resolved instantly to execute his pur- 
pose, and retrace his steps. No prepara- 
tion for the journey was necessary, for, 
alas! what could he make? Of goods and 
chattels he had little ; of gold and silver 
he had less ; the tattered garment which 
barely concealed his nakedness was pro- 
bably all he possessed ; for the sequel of 
the story shows that he was so destitute 
as to be barefooted. 

In this humiliating state as a beggar, 
did he retrace the track he had so lately 
travelled, possibly with all the pomp and 
splendour — with the costly equipage and 
gilded retinue of a prince — an object of 



LECTURE V. 119 

admiration by all, but now of scorn and 
contempt. But if as to outward circum- 
stances he had undergone so complete an 
alteration as scarcely to be recognized, 
the change which had taken place in his 
soul, in the inner man, was not less strik- 
ing. He was, indeed, to use the fami- 
liar language of the day, quite another 
man. 

We pass over all the intermediate pro- 
cess of his journey, from the scene of his 
profligacy to the still endeared spot of his 
birth and innocency. Scripture is silent 
on the subject ; let conjecture therefore 
be silent. He had no difficulty in dis- 
covering the way back again, for the Spirit 
of God was his guide. We may imagine 
him gaining the first glimpse of his father's 
house, from some distant hill. How did 
his heart throb with alternate emotions 
of joy and fear, doubt and desire ? At 
every turn of the road he met with some 
object to remind him that he was near 
home ; a name which until lately had vi- 



120 LECTURE V. 

brated in his ear with unspeakable de- 
light ; for after all, to the weary traveller 
there is nothing like home. Let us never 
be satisfied until we reach home : here 
we have no resting place : but are only 
strangers and pilgrims. Perhaps he re- 
cognized some of his former companions 
and partakers of his joy ; though he was 
to them an utter stranger, an alien. A 
thousand circumstances and appearances 
reminded him of scenes and days of hap- 
piness not to be recalled. Doubtless, he 
mourned in the bitterness of his soul, and 
like David, going up to the Mount of 
Olivet, " he wept as he went." He fal- 
tered in his steps. He hesitated. He 
was afraid to advance. He meditated a 
retreat ; but he thought on his father's 
kindness and acknowledged reputation 
for mercy, and was encouraged to pro- 
ceed ; till at last the much-dreaded, 
though much-desired meeting is obtained. 
Self-abased, self-condemned, he stands in 
the presence of his much insulted, but 



LECTURE V. 121 

still much loving parent, a beggar in all 
his beggary, a sinner in all his sins. 

You, my young friends, who have ever 
been convicted of a fault, and have stood 
like a criminal before your father's judg- 
ment seat to implore his forgiveness, can 
better conceive, than I describe, the an- 
guish of this downcast youth. It may in 
some measure be collected from the sen- 
timents which he uttered. What did he 
say ? Just what he ought, and no more. 
His words, though few, were very ex- 
pressive, and very affecting ; such as 
would have melted a heart composed of 
sterner materials, than that to which they 
were addressed. " Father, I have sinned 
against heaven and before thee, and am 
no more worthy to be called thy son." 
Mark the expression ! He acknowledges 
that Ire is unworthy to be called his son, 
but still he is unwilling to drop the ap- 
pellation of father. As if he would say, 
I cannot forget that you are mj father ; 
although justice demands that you should 



122 LECTURE V. 

forget that I am your son. If you dis- 
own me, as you justly might, I cannot 
disown you. Bad, desperately wicked, 
as my conduct hath been, still it cannot 
sever, though it may relax, the ties of re- 
lationship. Though my crimes have made 
us two, nature hath made us one. Though 
separated from thee by a thousand leagues, 
and a thousand wrongs, still " Thou art 
my father, the guide of my youth." In- 
dulge me therefore by allowing me to 
bestow upon you the appropriate endear- 
ing appellation of father. I claim your 
compassion, and seek for mercy as your 
unhappy son. If you deem me undeserv- 
ing this title, bestow upon me the appel- 
lation of a servant ; call me by any other 
name, however degrading ; but do not 
reject me ; do not disown me. I throw 
myself at your feet for mercy. I stand 
not here to vindicate myself. I have not 
a syllable to urge in palliation of my 
deeds. My whole defence is summed up 
in these words, ^' I have sinned." And 



LECTURE V. 123 

against whom ? Not merely against thee, 
but against my Father who is in heaven, 
against thee, my God. 

This is the leading ground of his com- 
plaint. '*! have sinned," says he, "against 
heaven and before thee." He mentions 
the deed perpetrated against God first. 
Here is a double source of affliction ; 
that the crimes he had committed were 
violations both of the laws of God and 
man ; affecting therefore both his present 
and future welfare. This was the blow 
he could not endure. It was painful 
enough to have violated the feelings of 
his earthly father ; but oh ! it was insup- 
portable anguish to have offended the 
Majesty of heaven ; the God of his crea- 
tion and preservation ; the great universal 
Father. 

This consideration deeply affected him, 
and inflicted a pang for which hitherto no 
remedy had been discovered. He could 
only acknowledge the debt he was unable 
to pay. He could only freely and inge- 

G 2 



124 LECTURE V. 

nuously confess himself to be a sinner. 
This was his only consolation -, the con- 
fession of his guilt. He threw himself 
upon his father's mercy for pardon and 
forgiveness. More he would have done, 
had aught been available ; but what re- 
paration could he make for the aggravated 
offences he had so daringly perpetrated ? 
Or how could he efface the crimson stains 
wherewith their commission had polluted 
his soul ? In the first place, he literally 
was destitute of every thing ; he had 
nothing which he could call his own, 
save his sins. 

Secondly, had he been in possession of 
all the wealth of both the Indies, he never 
could have paid the redemption price of 
one single transgression. He did all 
v/hich in his present situation he could 
do ; he came to his father, and in lan- 
guage most eloquent, but most simple, 
as his own advocate at his father's bar, 
pleaded guilty to every part of the indict- 
ment — " I have sinned." Deal with me 



LECTURE V. 125 

as seemeth thee good, O my father ; but 
cast me not out of thy house ; if thou art 
unwilling to own and retain me as thy 
son, " make me as one of thy hired ser- 
vants." 

We have then in this picture before us, 
a most beautiful portrait of the genuine 
repentance of a Christian prodigal ; an 
accurate delineation of scriptural conver- 
sion, which it is impossible to contemplate 
an unmoved spectator. 

First of all here is the recognition of 
God by the most appropriate of all terms, 
as the Father of the universe. The cha- 
racter of the wicked is, that they " live 
without God in the world." . What is 
true of the whole mass, may be asserted 
of each individual ; their object is to ba- 
nish the name and presence of God from 
their thoughts. All their actions, all their 
employments, all their amusements, are 
framed with reference to the exclusion of 
God ; the very recollection of whom, if 
perchance he is forced upon their atten- 



1^6 LECTURE V. 

tion, causes a thrill of horror through 
their frame, and almost arrests the pro- 
gress of their blood through its veins ; 
they " desire not the knowledge of God, 
or of his ways." They know nothing 
of him in his endearing capacity of a 
father, but estimate him only as the aven- 
ger of iniquity ; the infallible judge of 
their unhallowed conduct. 

Not that they are altogether fatherless; 
for what our Lord said to the unbelieving 
Jews, may be also asserted of them, **Ye 
are of your father the devil, and the lusts 
of your father ye do." But when the 
Spirit of God has begun to soften the ob- 
duracy of their heart, and to convince 
them of its depravity, God is represented 
to them in a new aspect ; no longer 
clothed in terror, enveloped in fire, 
hurling around him the weapons of de- 
struction ; but as a loving, merciful fa- 
ther, *' plenteous in goodness and in 
truth." It is true, that they cannot but 
behold him as a deeply offended Father ; 



LECTURE V. 127 

but viewing liim through that medium of 
communication, his own Son — the bleed- 
ing Saviour, he is exhibited as surrounded 
by all the endearing emblems of recon- 
ciliation ; they see the bow encircling the 
throne, but pointed upwards, and no ar- 
row attached to it : the weapons of war- 
fare having been laid aside, they have 
" peace with God through our Lord Jesus 
Christ." 

The first accents then^ which the peni- 
tent, the newly born child of God is 
taught to lisp, are those of Abba, Father, 
He addresses his parent with all the affec- 
tion of filial appropriation, as his Father 
" who is in heaven." Though he has 
been a great way off, having banished 
himself as far as possible from his father^s 
presence and house, yet he is determined 
that nothing shall any longer effect the 
separation. He has an ardent desire to 
return to the place from whence he went 
out. He arises therefore from his be- 
sotted sleep, and casts aside every thing 



128 LECTURE V. 

that might impede his progress. At first 
he hesitates, and seems to doubt whether 
he should advance ; whether it is possible 
he can be received ; whether he has not 
outsinned even parental forgiveness. 

The first steps of a Christian penitent, 
like those of a little child, are faltering 
and retrograding ; but he is secretly led 
on by the invisible agency of the Holy 
Spirit, and at length he runs to his father, 
prostrates himself at his feet, and hiding 
his face in the dust, addresses him in the 
affecting language of the text, ** Father, 
I have sinned in thy sight." 

This is the next point to be noticed in 
the penitential career — not only the ac- 
knowledgment of God, but the acknow- 
ledgment of the sinner s guilt. What a 
change is here ! What an alteration have 
time and circumstances, or rather I should 
say, the grace of God, produced in his 
heart. 

Self-justification, naturally engendered 
in the heart of every man, displays its 



LECTURE V. 129 

power on every occasion which can call 
forth its energy. When detected in a 
fault or convicted of a crime, what is the 
first impulse of the mind? To attempt 
in some measure to vindicate the trans- 
gression, to find an excuse for its com- 
mission, to palliate its enormity ; or else 
to remove its guilt to the shoulders of 
some other person ; to urge the magnitude 
of the temptation as the reason for yield- 
ing to its pressing solicitation. This is 
invariably the natural impulse of the hu- 
man heart, unsanctified by the Spirit of 
God ; to establish its own righteousness 
is the primary object of its attainment. 

But oh ! how different is the sentiment 
after the Spirit of God has moved upon 
the face of the soul, and levelled the 
mountains of human pride ! We are 
taught then to estimate ourselves by a 
very different standard. We no longer, 
comparing ourselves with ourselves, or 
with our fellow creatures, are wise ; 
weighing ourselves in the gospel balance, 

g5 



130 LECTURE V. 

we are found miserably wanting. All 
then, is self-depreciation, self-abase- 
ment. 

This was the case with our penitent 
prodigal. He does not fill his mouth 
with arguments, such as might have a 
tendency to establish his innocence ; or, 
if he failed in that, to prove his compa- 
rative righteousness, that he was not 
worse than others, nay, better than many ; 
he lays his soul as it were naked before 
God, and exposes all its deformity. Like 
David, *' he acknowledges his transgres- 
sion, and his sin is ever before him ;" he 
can never forget it ; he bears the re- 
membrance of it to his dying pillow. 
Nay, so far from extenuating his faults, 
he is disposed to augment their number 
and magnitude, and is ready to brand 
himself with the appellation of the apostle 
of old, the " chief of sinners." He sees 
something at least of the deformity of 
sin ; the full display of all its distorted 
features would overpower him : he de- 



LECTURE V. 131 

tects it even in his most hallowed ser- 
vices, and abhors himself in dust and 
ashes. 

But that which overpowers him almost 
to distraction, is the reflection that his 
transg-ressions have been committed, not 
simply against his fellow man — against 
the father who begat him, or the monarch 
under whose salutary laws he has been 
protected and nurtured ; but against the 
supreme ruler of the universe, his Hea- 
venly Father — the King of kings, and 
Lord of lords. Oh ! he weeps rivers of 
tears to think that it is his God whom he 
has offended ; not so much because he 
dreads his vengeance, as that he displays 
his own base ingratitude, in having so ill 
requited such a series of tender mercies 
and loving kindness. Oh ! it is painful 
to feel in the common intercourse of life, 
that the being whose character we have 
grievously vilified, whose name we have 
traduced, whose goodness we have abused, 
is our greatest benefactor; whose time 



132 LECTURE V. 

and energies have been devoted to the 
promotion of our happiness. 

But oh ! what language can describe 
the agony, when the scene of this base- 
ness is transferred from earth to heaven ; 
and our Father and our God becomes 
the object of our reproach and calumny, 
against whom the weapons of our hos- 
tility are directed with unwearied dili- 
gence ! This consideration so harrowed 
up the feelings of the patriarch David, 
that it might be truly said of him, " the 
iron entered into his soul," and marked 
by its bloody track the wounds which it 
had created. Though the foul deeds 
which he had committed under the do- 
minion of a raging lust were against his 
fellow man, a violation of the first prin- 
ciples of humanity ; yet in the confession 
of his wickedness, and in the acknow- 
ledgment of his guilt, what does he say 
to his God ? '* Against Thee only have I 
sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight." 
Every thing else seemed to be of minor 



LECTURE y. 133 

consideration. The outrages committed 
upon society, the bed of his neighbour 
which he had so impiously defiled, and 
his blood, which with still greater im- 
piety he had caused to flow, affected him 
deeply ; but not so deeply as the thought 
that it was his God who was insulted ; 
and that in his own person, he had com- 
mitted a daring act of violence even 
against Deity itself. 

This was the primary feature in the 
prodigal's confession when he went to 
his father, and throwing himself at his 
feet, poured forth his lamentation ; " Fa- 
ther," said he, " I have sinned, first, 
against heaven, and then before thee." 

My young friends, ever remember that 
those who sin against their earthly father, 
are undutiful also to their heavenly Father. 
Offences against their parents are offences 
against God. They are, so to speak, 
God's representatives here on earth ; the 
appointed guardians and protectors of 
their children. God himself has invested 



134 LECTURE V. 

them with this authority. If children, 
then, rebel against their earthly head, 
what is it but an act of defiance against 
their omnipotent Head ? Show me a 
child without natural affection, disobe- 
dient, a violator of the fifth command- 
ment, however else he may be designated 
— whether he be learned, or lovely — the 
heir of a princely estate — certain it is, 
that, in his present condition, he has no 
title to be " a child of God, nor an in- 
heritor of the kingdom of heaven." Let 
parents and children consider well their 
reciprocal duties. Parents, *' provoke 
not your children to anger," " Children, 
obey your parents in all things, for this is 
well-pleasing unto the Lord." 

But we pass on to the last particular 
to be noticed — the humiliation of the 
Christian prodigal. Like the young man 
in the parable, he confesses that he is no 
more worthy to be called a son. He 
has forfeited all title to that endearing 
appellation. He seeks, it is true, ad- 



LECTURE V. 135 

mission into his father's house, but no 
longer as a son ; he would now rejoice 
in the name and treatment of a servant. 
He would most gladly now return to his 
occupation, disgusting as it was, of feed- 
ing swine, if he only knew that they be- 
longed to his father. This is invariably 
the sentiment of every penitent returning 
sinner. As nothing occasions him so 
much pain as a consciousness of alienation 
from his heavenly Father's family and 
church, so he desires nothing more 
ardently than to be again admitted to 
his Father's household ; and when ad- 
mission has been obtained, he will be 
anxious to he employed in his Father's 
service ; to hold any situation, however 
humble. 

How altered his tone ! He now lays no 
claim to his forfeited inheritance : he asks 
not now, in language selfish and insolent, 
for his portion of goods ; he talks no 
longer of his rights, but only of his 
wrongs ; the wrongs which he has heaped 



136 



LECTURE V. 



upon his father. He deems himself un- 
worthy to sit down to tahle with the 
household and family of God, or to par- 
take of the same bread, or drink of the 
same cup, with the " sons and daughters 
of the Lord Almighty ;'* he only asks for 
the treatment of a stranger — an outcast — 
yea, of a dog. He solicits a few crumbs 
only that fall from his master's table ; 
just that he might be permitted to taste 
of the bread and water of life, that he 
may not die. He is constrained by pain- 
ful experience to confess that the hardest 
service in the church of God is perfect 
freedom ; especially when compared with 
that detestable slavery into which he was 
seduced under the promise of liberty, 
when enlisting under the banners of the 
arch-deceiver. Pay me my wages, said 
he, to this arbitrary tyrant, whom he had 
served so faithfully for a long succession 
of years. " Take that thine is ; go thy 
way," said the monster. And what was 
the reward of his hire ? Instead of the 



LECTURE V. 137 

fulfilment of the specious promises which 
had allured him from his home and from 
his duty, he finds, to his utter dismay and 
chagrin, that the wages of sin are only 
present misery and eternal death ; that, 
although he had gained a little of this 
world's pleasure, yet that he had lost his 
own soul, which the whole world could 
not redeem. In an agony of grief he 
runs to his father, and prays for admission 
on any terms into his father's house : 
" Make me as one of thy hired servants." 
This is the proper temper and dispo- 
sition with which to seek to gain admit- 
tance into the realms of glory- -to acknow- 
ledge ourselves not only as unworthy to 
receive the least of all God^s mercies, but 
as most worthy to receive the greatest 
of his punishments, " He," says Solo- 
mon, " that covereth his sins shall not 
prosper, but whoso confesseth and for- 
saketh them shall have mercy." There 
must be no attempt at concealment by any 
mantle of self-righteousness, or by any 



13S LECTURE V. 

texture composed of those flimsj ma- 
terials which the world would provide. 
Neither, in the forensic language of the 
day, must we sue for a mitigation of 
damages, on the grounds of partial obe- 
dience ; of comparative vice, or of com- 
parative virtue. We must plead guilty 
to every indictment which an accusing 
conscience will not fail to urge against 
us with unerring fidelity ; we must seek 
for mercy solely on the ground of mercy. 
" God be merciful to me a sinner,^' pro- 
cured the justification of a penitent pub- 
lican ; while '* God, I thank thee that I 
am not as other men are," procured the 
condemnation of a proud pharisee. 

We have now endeavoured to exhibit 
to you a lovely picture of christian peni- 
tence, as exemplified in the same person 
who a short time before appalled us by 
the deformity of his features. How then 
has the transformation been effected ? It 
can be accounted for only on one prin- 
ciple — *'by the grace of God he is what 



LECTURE V. 139 

he is." The Spirit of God has moved 
upon the face of his icy, hardened heart, 
and the tear of repentance has flowed; 
the rock has gushed out with an inun- 
dation of woe at the divine mandate. 
Though outwardly he retains all the linea- 
ments of his former humanity, yet in- 
wardly he is the subject of a complete 
renovation, and comes forth in all the 
freshness of a new creation in Christ 
Jesus. 

If, in the first instance, we have been 
led to mourn over the prodigal's wander- 
ings, and to elevate him as a warning 
beacon ; we must now call upon you to 
rejoice at his return, and bid you behold 
the man as an object worthy of all imi- 
tation. 

This picture of personified penitence is 
both beautiful and instructive. It is not 
the mere extorted ejaculation of regret 
for past delinquency, while death is star- 
ing us in the face, and we are every mo- 
ment expecting its approach, which con- 



140 LECTURE V. 

stitutes godly sorrow. It is not the mere 
determination to abandon sin, when we 
are so debilitated as to have lost the 
power of committing" it, at least in deed, 
if not in thought. It is not the cold 
heartless surrender to God of our souls 
and bodies, when the one has been so at- 
tenuated by sin, and the other so en- 
feebled by disease, as to be a dead, not a 
living sacrifice. It is not the mere adjust- 
ment of our vices and virtues at the close 
of a long life, and striking the balance of 
the latter in our favour, so as rather to 
make God a debtor to us than we to him ; 
or, if the balance be against us, placing 
the Redeemer's merits in the scale to eke 
out the difference. This may be the 
quantum and the quality of sorrow, which 
the world will prescribe as the atonement 
for guilt ; but it is just that sorrow that 
** worketh death." It lulls the soul into 
a fatal slumber ; and when it is enjoying 
its delusive dreams, whispers in grateful 
accents, "Peace, peace ;" but what peace 



LECTURE V. 141 

can there be when its iniquities are so 
many, and those unforgiven ? Not be- 
cause they are past forgiveness, but be- 
cause it has never been sought for at the 
fountain of mercy — because the perishing 
culprit never stood before God in the 
posture of penitence and of prayer. 

If you, my dear young friends, have 
never gone, under a deep conviction of 
your destitution and ruin, to throw your- 
selves for mercy into the arms of your 
Redeemer ; fidelity constrains me to in- 
form you, that you have never appeared 
before God in a penitential garb. You 
** are dead whilst you live." Hitherto 
you have only been entitled to adopt the 
sentiment of that prelate of the Romish 
church, of persecuting notoriety; I mean 
Bishop Bonner, who is reported with his 
dying breath to have said, " Erravi cum 
Petro, sed non cum Petro flevi ;" which 
being interpreted signifies, " I.have sinned 
with Peter, but I have not wept with 
Peter." Arise, then, and go to your 



142 LECTURE V. 

Father. Let no time, or distance, or 
space, or sense of un worthiness, restrain 
your advances. You cannot be in a worse 
situation, or at a greater distance than 
the prodigal, who to all human appear- 
ance, had banished himself never to re- 
turn. Yet he was not only re- admitted 
to his former privileges, but he was re- 
instated amidst shouts of acclamation, 
and crowned with additional glory and 
honour. 

Will you, then, not be accepted ? The 
Father is most willing to receive you, be- 
cause he is a Father — the Father of our 
Lord Jesus Christ ; and, through him, of 
all the children which are born unto him. 
A sinner on his knees is a sight which 
even the Majesty of heaven delights to 
behold. He cannot resist such impor- 
tunities. Besides, " in your Father^s 
house are many mansions," in which a 
place is prepared for your occupation. 
There God will vouchsafe all his blessings ; 
here you can neither receive or enjoy 



LECTURE V. 143 

them ; you are not yet at home ; here 
you are a stranger. We bid you enter 
the paternal palace, and dwell there for 
ever and ever. 

The gracious reception which you will 
meet with, we must reserve for a future 
consideration. 

And now, how shall we dismiss you ? 
In the words of dying Joshua : ** If it 
seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, 
choose you this day whom ye will serve." 
And the people answered, *' God forbid 
that we should forsake the Lord to serve 
other gods ; the Lord our God will we 
serve, and His voice will we obey." May 
this be the secret settled determination of 
all here present ; may God, of his infinite 
mercy, dispose you to do that which is 
pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ 
our Lord. 



144 



LECTURE VI. 

Luke XV. 20, 21. 

But when he was yet a great way off, his 
father saw him, and had compassion, 
and 7'an and fell on his neck and kissed 
him ; and the son said unto him, Fa- 
ther, I have sinned against heaven and 
in thy sight, and am no more worthy 
to he called thy son. 

The interesting subject of our narrative, 
on the last occasion, we left speeding his 
way back to his home with accelerated 
steps. He felt that his home and his 
happiness, nay, his very existence, were 
inseparably united. Every thing depended 
on restoration, if not to his former privi- 



LECTURE VI. 145 

leges, at least to some position in his 
former house. 

But the question was, what reception 
he was likely to meet with from his 
deeply insulted parent ; whether he should 
ever be again admitted within the walls 
of his paternal abode. The result proves 
that he had formed a correct estimate of 
his father^s affectionate and merciful dis- 
position. He felt a secret conviction, 
amounting to an assurance, that he should 
not be expelled, a houseless fugitive, from 
the endeared spot of his nativity ; that if 
he could once gain access to the door of 
his father's hospitable roof, he had only 
to *' knock and it would be opened unto 
him." 

We proceed, then, now to the con- 
sideration of the son's reception, and the 
forhearance and lovingkindness exhibited 
by the father. 

A wayward child, who has at the same 
moment abandoned his home and reputa- 
tion, is not with the same degree of fa- 

H 



146 LECTURE VI. 

cility abandoned by his parents. They 
may try to forget him, seeing that the re- 
membrance of him is painful \ but they 
cannot succeed. In spite of themselves, 
in moments of retirement, in a dream or 
vision of the night, the image of their 
boy will often be presented to their ima- 
gination ; and a thousand circumstances 
will occur to remind them of the loss they 
have sustained— -that they too once had a 
son ; but whether or not he is now in ex- 
istence, they are unconscious : it may 
be " that some evil beast has devoured 
him" — that they walk childless upon the 
earth. 

It is probable that the father of the 
prodigal was indulging in a similar train 
of reflection, and that almost insensibly 
his thoughts recurred to his child. Doubt- 
less he was scarcely ever out of his re- 
membrance. Although we are unable to 
assign the cause, yet few will be unwilling 
to admit the fact, that we are often led to 
think and talk of some absent friend or 



LECTURE VI. 147 

acquaintance, whose steps, after a long 
interval of months or years, are nigh 
at the door ; so that he is presented to 
the eye of our imagination, some time 
previous to his introduction to our actual 
sight ; in order, as it would seem, that by 
some providential anticipation we may be 
prepared for his approach. 

Whether such was the case with the 
father in the parable, the history does not 
inform us. Certain, however, it was, that 
when he was ** yet a great way off," the 
father spied his son. Who can tell what 
a day or an hour may bring forth ? Little 
did the father think, when he arose in the 
morning, that he should lie down at night 
having folded in his embrace his long lost 
son, restored to his family and friends ; if 
not in the plenitude of wealth and of 
power, still in the plenitude of tears, of 
penitence, and of grace. 

So, however, it was ordained. The fa- 
ther beheld what he no doubt believed to 
be a stranger, a beggar crossing his fields, 

H 2 



148 LECTURE vi; 

and advancing' with rapid strides towards 
his house ; but as he drew nigh, judge 
of his surprise — judge of the emotions of 
his bosom, partly of pain at his degrada- 
tion, but still greater of joy at his restora- 
tion, when he recognized the features of 
one who was near and dear unto him as 
his own soul. No disguise, however art- 
fully contrived, can conceal from the eye 
of a parent the lineaments of the child 
whom he has begotten. There is some 
private mark known only to a parent ; or 
the general aspect and deportment are such 
as at once bespeak his child. The father 
traces, in the approaching stranger, his 
own portrait, the faithful representation 
of himself, or of the mother who has borne 
him ; and at once proclaims and owns 
him as his son. He cannot be deceived. 
The voice of nature speaks to him, and 
must be heard. Even the old blind patri- 
arch Isaac discerned rightly his son Jacob, 
when he said, " The voice is Jacob's voice, 
but the hands are the hands of Esau.^^ 



LECTURE VI. 149 

Although no doubt the features of the 
fugitive had undergone all that change, 
the necessary result of poverty, and the 
vicissitudes of life, and climate, to which 
he had been exposed ; still, in the 
midst of all his beggary and rags, even 
though he was at a considerable distance, 
the father recognized his spendthrift, pro- 
digal son. There was a something about 
him, which at once proclaimed him to be 
his child. He could not be mistaken. But, 
alas! how changed was the ruddy com- 
plexion of the youth, who had left his 
roof in full possession not only of his 
property, but of his strength and health. 
None but a father could have recognized 
the same individual, though he could 
hardly be said to be the same ; so altered 
was he in the external character of his 
body, and not less in the internal deport- 
ment of his soul. He left his father's 
mansion in all the pride and independence 
of inexperienced youth. He returned to 
it with all the humiliation of one whose 



150 LECTURE VI. 

hopes had been blasted— whose ambition 
had been extinguished — whose mighty 
projects had been annihilated. Still, 
though cast down, he was not destroyed ; 
he stood a penitent in all his sorrow. 

But what was the conduct of the father, 
when he first beheld his son, with acce- 
lerated steps, hastening towards his home? 
Did he run towards his house with full 
determination of purpose, to barricado 
the doors against the entrance of his child, 
and to forbid his approach ? To arm the 
domestics in hostility against their young 
master ? Did he determine, at all events, 
to expel the wanderer, and force him to 
become a fugitive and a vagabond upon 
the face of the earth ? No ! he ran, it is 
true, but it was Jbrwards and not back- 
wards — to meet his child, not to avoid 
him. He ran as fast as his aged feet 
would allow him, to throw his arms 
around the neck of his still much loved, 
though much sinning boy. His bowels 
of compassion yearned towards him ; 



LECTURE VI. 151 

every other sensation was completely ab- 
sorbed in the feeling, that he once more 
folded in his embrace the object he 
so ardently desired, but scarcely hoped 
again to behold. We read, " that he ran, 
and fell on his neck, and kissed him." 

So eager is he to clasp to his heart the 
restored pledge of his affection, that he 
waits not until he hears his son's defence; 
what he had to urge in mitigation of his 
conduct. He withholds not the saluta- 
tion until he is first assailed with the cry 
of mercy; but at once rushes forwards 
with all the impetuosity of a doting parent, 
and welcomes his child back again to his 
heart and to his home, with a kiss of de- 
light, which none but parents know ; by 
that act sealing the pledge of affection, 
and at the same moment the assurance of 
pardon. He had no need to hear from his 
son's lips the accents of humiliation and 
mourning. There was something in the 
whole aspect of the boy, and in the 
tears which no doubt flowed down his 



152 LECTURE VI. 

furrowed cheeks in an unrestrained stream, 
which bespoke at once the penitent. His 
poverty and wretchedness were alone suf- 
ficient to secure a passport to a parent's 
bosom. It was enough that his child was 
in want, and that he as his father was en- 
abled to succour him. 

It might have been reasonably sup- 
posed that the wild extravagant conduct 
of the young man would at least have met 
with a rebuke from his father ; that before 
he admitted him into his house, he would 
have reasoned with him on the impro- 
priety of his conduct, and the daring act 
of defiance both towards God and man, 
of which he had been guilty. We read 
of no such sentiment of reproach and 
condemnation. There is not even the 
tender expostulation. Nothing that sa- 
voured of harshness or of reproof, though 
it was justly merited ; yea castigation the 
most severe. The pitiable condition of 
the son — his posture of humiliation — his 
supplicating countenance, had completely 



LECTURE VI. 153 

disarmed the wrathful indignation of the 
father ; all the son's misconduct was en- 
tirely obliterated from his father's recol- 
lection, and wiped away by the kiss of 
affection ; he seemed only to remember 
one thing— that his son was alive, and 
stood before him a petitioner for his 
mercy. Even if he could have resisted 
the eloquence of his eyes, it was almost 
impossible to have withstood the touch- 
ing language which proceeded from his 
lips, which we have by anticipation fully 
considered — " Father," said he, " I have 
sinned against heaven, and before thee, 
and am no more worthy to be called 
thy son." In all the bitterness of a wound- 
ed conscience, he stands before his parent 
a self-condemned criminal : ** he con- 
fesses his iniquity, and is sorry for his 
sin." 

Here then let us rest awhile, and gaze 
with rapture upon this interesting scene 
so frequently acted upon the theatre of 
domestic life. The sun in its course 

h5 



154 LECTURE VI. 

could scarcely animate with its presence 
a more endearing sight — a sight which 
makes even the vault of heaven to re- 
sound with the approving song of 
angels. Here is a father folding in his 
embrace, raising from the dust, a hopeless 
and hapless child, who in the madness of 
his career, had embarked on a perilous 
enterprise — the pursuit of pleasure ; but 
had now returned wrecked in property, 
in health, in reputation, destitute of every- 
thing but a father's blessing ; the outcast 
of society, rejected by the world ; but 
finding refuge in that very house, which 
he lately shunned as if it were infected 
with a pestilence. 

Oh ! it is a cheering spectacle, to see 
the long-lost prodigal once more entwined 
in the arms of a doting parent, who seem- 
ed now to have no earthly wish ungra- 
tified. He could fully participate in the 
feelings of the patriarch of old, when he 
said, *' It is enough^ Joseph my son is yet 
alive j I will go and see him before I die." 



LECTURE VI. 155 

But language and imagination would 
fail us, were we to attempt to delineate, 
however imperfectly, the throbbings of 
delight which swelled the bosom, both of 
the parent and of the child, as the one 
breathed forth the assurance of his sor- 
row ; the other, the assurance of his for- 
giveness. Their history stands recorded 
as an encouragement to every transgress- 
ing child, to retrace the steps of its iniqui- 
tous career ; while it speaks in language 
not less forcible to every parent, behold 
thy son liveth, receive him back again to 
thy house, lest a worse thing come unto 
him. 

Hitherto we have regarded this history 
simply as the record of a deed wrought 
out upon earth by two of its inhabitants, 
which it is of a truth lovely to behold. 
But there lies concealed a hidden beauty, 
which can only be discerned through the 
spiritual telescope. We see before us a 
faithful, though faint exhibition of divine 
love, as displayed by our heavenly Father 



156 LECTURE VI. 

towards his rebellious but repentant chil- 
dren. We here read for ourselves the 
records of God's redeeming mercy ma- 
nifested towards a sinner through Jesus 
Christ ; as far eclipsing all human trans- 
actions, as the heavens surpass in altitude 
the earth ; or as the nature of God ex- 
ceeds in perfection the nature of man. 
We may form some idea of human love ; 
but imagination fails when we attempt to 
delineate the love of God— like the peace 
of God, " it passeth all understanding." 

This is the second point to which we 
would most particularly solicit your atten- 
tion, God is here represented to our 
view as our "reconciled God in Christ 
Jesus ;" arrayed in all his glorious attri- 
butes of mercy \ " long-suffering, plen- 
teous in goodness and truth," exercising 
his royal prerogative of pardoning whom 
he wills, " forgiving iniquity, transgres- 
sion, and sin/^ Infidelity only can refuse 
to see that the reception of a sinner unto 
God through Jesus Christ, is the doctrine 



LECTURE VI. 157 

which is here sought to be established. 
Indeed it is more or less the prominent 
feature of almost every parable recorded 
in Scripture. 

God the Father is here represented as 
seeing his son, the christian prodigal, a 
great way off, and having compassion 
upon him. When the world first aposta- 
tized in Adam, forfeited the divine favour 
and protection, and exposed itself to all 
the penalties of that irrevocable curse, 
which converted a paradise into a wilder- 
ness ; it was, nevertheless, not entirely 
banished from the presence and mind of 
God. He saw it, but it was afar off; 
with an altered obscured vision. He 
spake to it, but it w^as as from a distance, 
though still in accents of love. But al- 
though it had been alienated from him by 
the transgression of Adam ; it was to be 
brought near to him by the righteousness, 
intercession, and blood, of Christ. It was 
not doomed to eternal banishment from 
the presence and mercy of God ; and of 



158 LECTURE VI. 

this he gave the earliest possible intima- 
tion, when he promised that *' the seed 
of the woman should bruise the serpent's 
head," and that by this means the sin- 
ning apostate world should be brought 
into a state of reconciliation with himself; 
should be brought, so to speak, nearer to 
himself 

This promise of a future Saviour, who 
was to remove the cause of alienation be- 
tween the Father and his rebellious chil- 
dren, was renewed from time to time to 
patriarchs and prophets. These revela- 
tions might be said to be so many step- 
ping-stones, by which God advanced in 
his march of mercy towards mankind ; 
each progressive step was an assurance 
that the time would come, when " mercy 
and truth should meet each other, when 
righteousness and peace should kiss each 
other." This was literally accomplished 
in the person of Jesus Christ, coming in 
our nature in the flesh. Then God 
actually approached the world, came as 



LECTURE VI, 159 

near to it as he could do ; he visited it, 
he dwelt upon it, and might be said to 
fall on its neck, and imprint upon it the 
kiss of forgiveness and acceptance. Then 
it was that " God was in Christ recon- 
ciling the world unto himself, not imput- 
ing their trespasses unto them." 

The apostle Paul, in his Epistle to the 
Ephesians, has a beautiful illustration of 
this doctrine ; '* But now," says he, *' in 
Christ Jesus, je who sometimes were afar 
off are made nigh by the blood of Christ." 
So that Christ is the great channel of 
communication between earth and hea- 
ven ; the great medium of access to the 
Father ; and although the world by its 
iniquities was removed as far as possible 
from God ; had banished itself from the 
superintending eye of its Creator, to the 
utmost extent of divine^ observation ; still 
" God so loved the world, that he gave 
his only begotten Son, to the end that it 
might not perish, but that all who believe 
in him might have everlasting life." It is 



l60 LECTURE VI. 

to this gracious scene of reconciliation 
that the prophet Isaiah so forcibly alludes 
when he addresses the heathen world : 
" Hearken unto me, ye stout hearted, that 
are far from rig-hteousness ; I will bring 
near my righteousness, it shall not be far 
off, and my salvation it shall not tarry." 
It did not tarry ; it was brought nigh, 
even to the doors, when Christ "arose 
with healing in his wings, to be the light 
to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of 
the people Israel." 

What is true of all mankind collec- 
tively, is true of each one individually. 
We are all by nature ** alienated from the 
life of God through the ignorance that is 
in us ;" living at a distance from him ; 
and if ever we gaze upon God we see 
him only afar off ; left to ourselves in this 
forlorn condition, we should eternally 
perish ; but the moment we manifest a 
desire to " draw nigh to God, he will 
draw nigh to us ;" nay, he will impart to 
us the will, the desire, the ability, to turn 



LECTURE VI. 161 

unto him ; for, says Christ, " no man 
can come to me, except the Father which 
hath sent me draw him/^ He draws us 
by the secret cords of his love j by the 
silken chain of his affection. All the con- 
victions of sin, the strivings of the spirit, 
the stings of conscience, the tears of re- 
pentance, are the leading-strings by which 
we are insensibly allured towards God. 
It is God going out to meet us when we 
are on the high-road to destruction, and 
gently whispering to us, *' This is the way, 
walk therein/' 

But so complete is the delusion, that 
we imagine we are making advances to- 
wards God ; when in fact it is God who 
makes advances towards us. Left to 
follow the guidance of our own lust, or 
even unsanctified reason, we should rather 
retrograde than advance ; we should be» 
come more attached to, and hardened in, 
our iniquities ; in that state wherein the 
apostle says, it would be " impossible to 
renew us to repentance." Allured by 



162 LECTURE VI. 

the fascinating scenery which bewitches 
the eye of the travellers along the broad 
way, we should pursue our course until 
we are entombed in the bottomless gulf 
of destruction. But God sees us afar off -, 
he beheld us from eternity ; he sets his 
love, his everlasting love upon us. He 
calls us to himself by his word, by his 
Spirit, by his ordinances, by our consci- 
ences ; so that we are enabled to rise up 
at the first intonations of his voice, and 
say with the child Samuel, *' Here am I, 
for thou didst call me." 

He not only stands ready to receive 
us, and most willing to pardon us, to 
welcome us to all the privileges which 
we have forfeited and despised ; but he 
himself goes out to meet us ; he steps 
out of his place, in order that he may 
make the first advances towards us ; he 
gently leads us by the hand ; he guides 
us by his eye, until he has placed us 
within the pale of security. " He never 
leaves us, nor ever forsakes us.^^ With 



LECTURE VI. 163 

such eagerness do the bowels of God's 
mercy yearn towards mankind in their 
lost estate, that he longs for their return, 
as an anxious parent does for that of his 
runaway child. *' The Lord will not 
cast off his people whom he has fore- 
known." The prophet Isaiah asks this 
question : " Can a woman forget her 
sucking child, that she should not have 
compassion on the son of her womb ? 
Yea they may forget, yet will not I forget 
thee." It is not only within the range 
of possibility, but it is an event which 
sometimes actually occurs, that even the 
sucking child has its supply of nutriment 
denied by its unnatural mother, and is 
abandoned to all the horrors of famine 
and of death ; nay, such monsters have 
been known, who have actually imbrued 
their own hands in the blood of their in- 
nocents, and themselves have destroyed 
that life which they had imparted, and 
were bound to preserve. But we chal- 
lenge the scorner and infidel to produce 



164 LECTURE VI. 

one instance in which God our heavenly 
Father ever abandoned, or cast off one of 
his children ; having " loved them with 
an everlasting love," he loves them unto 
the end ; and none, no man, or angel, or 
devil, shall be able to pluck them out of 
His hand. 

Then, again, does the Father in the pa- 
rable declare his readiness to forgive, 
nay, actually seal the pardon with a kiss, 
even before the son had expressed his 
sentiments of sorrow and repentance ? 
See here a faint transcript of divine love. 
Our heavenly Father gives to us more 
than we ask, and before we ask. Before 
we call he answers. He prevents us 
with the blessings of goodness. He is a 
discerner of the secrets and intents of the 
heart ; " he understands our thoughts 
long before they are uttered" or con- 
ceived by us. The Spirit, as it were, 
" makes intercession for us, with groan- 
ings which cannot be uttered." 

Misery is the object of mercy : and 



LECTURE VI. 165 

although God likes to hear the confession 
of wretchedness from our own lips ; yet 
it is not because he needs the information, 
but because he would know that the sin- 
ner himself is conscious of his own de- 
gradation and desolation. It may be, 
that our heart is so overpowered with 
the accumulated load of its iniquity, that 
the tongue refuses, and is unable to utter 
the anguish which rankles within the bo- 
som ; but the eye of a Saviour God be- 
holds it all ; " he is about our path and 
about our bed, and spieth out all our 
ways ;" he knows the secrets of our 
hearts, and sees and relieves the untold, 
because unutterable anguish of our souls : 
" so that being justified by faith, we have 
peace with God,'* peace within ourselves, 
" through our Lord Jesus Christ. ^^ 

But there is one more particular feature 
in the parable to be noticed, the complete 
silence of the father with respect to his 
son's delinquency. So far from its being 
made the subject of bitter invective, it is 



166 LECTURE VI. 

not even made the subject of distant al- 
lusion ; in order that no reference to the 
past mig"ht overshadow the joy of the 
present hour. Indeed, where would have 
been the use of recurring to events be- 
yond the reach of control, which could 
not be amended, only deplored, as indeed 
they were by the unfeigned penitence of 
the unhappy culprit ? The past there- 
fore was buried in oblivion, at least as far 
as the father was concerned ; forgetful- 
ness on the part of the son would have 
been an impossibility : it could only have 
been effected by a decay of faculties, or 
the departure of life. 

Is the forbearance then, and tenderness 
of God our heavenly Father, less strik- 
ingly displayed towards Ms children? 
Hear his own gracious declaration. " If 
the wicked will turn from all his sins 
that he hath committed, and do that 
which is lawful and right, he shall surely 
live, he shall not die ; all his transgres- 
sions that he hath committed, they shall 



LECTURE VI. 167 

not he mentioned unto him." What a 
gracious assurance ! How reviving" to 
the trembling penitent, who has dreaded 
the exposure of his guilt. In another 
place, speaking by the mouth of his pro- 
phet Isaiah, he says, " I, even I, am he 
that blotteth out thy transgressions for 
mine own sake, and will not rememher 
thy sins." The hand- writing which re- 
gistered their atrocious deeds shall be 
fully and finally effaced ; while the hand- 
writing" which has recorded their works 
of faith, and deeds of mercy, shall never 
be effaced ; they will be eternally regis- 
tered in heaven. The sinner shall not 
be taunted with the fact of his being a 
sinner, because he is accepted as right- 
eous ; and the foul spots of his iniquity have 
been completely erased by the purifying, 
sanctifying blood of an incarnate Saviour; 
not that the impressions of sin will en- 
tirely be eradicated from his bosom, and 
never recur to his imagination ; they will 
ever live in his remembrance, though 



168 LECTURE VI. 

he has the best reason for believing 
that he has been ransomed from their 
guilt. 

We find David bewailing his iniquity in 
the fifty-first Psalm, though the prophet 
had said, " The Lord hath put away thy 
sin." Though the believer has the wit- 
ness in himself, that he is absolved from 
the consequence of his atrocious deeds, 
and that they will not rise up in judg- 
ment to condemn him ; still the remem- 
brance of them must be grievous, and at 
times the burden intolerable. But he 
has this consolation, that the page of his 
history once stained with the crimson dye 
of his iniquity, now presents a spotless 
surface, on which no marks are legible ; 
nought is recorded against him ; his sins, 
from having been ** red as scarlet, are 
made white as snow,^^ because he hath 
been washed in the blood of the Lamb. 
God even here is unwilling to mention 
the sins of his people : for as it has been 
remarked, he notices the patience of Job, 



LECTURE VI. 169 

but says nothing- about his impatience ; 
whereas the way of man is to overlook 
the virtues of others, and speak only of 
their vices. 

Here we are constrained to pause. We 
must reserve the consideration of our 
penitent's future blessedness, and glorious 
privileges, for our final lecture. 

See here, my youthful auditors, and while 
you gaze, admire the love of God the Father 
in Christ Jesus, condescending to human 
infirmity ; bending himself to your ten- 
der years ; adapting himself to your ca- 
pacity, or rather incapacity. He knows 
the dangers to which you are exposed, 
and the difficulties you will have to en- 
counter^ in attempting to extricate your- 
selves from the labyrinth of the world ; 
to regain the narrow path which leads to 
heaven: that if left to your own puny 
efforts, a return would be impracticable. 
He therefore goes out to meet you, 
placing his " everlasting arms underneath 
you," lest at any time you should ** dash 

I 



170 LECTURE VI. 

your foot against a stone;" or else he 
shields you, lest a stone should " fall upon 
you, and grind you to powder." What, 
though you are so far alienated from God, 
as to be unable to discern him, that with 
the telescopic apparatus of faith, you can- 
not even catch a glimpse of him! Be not 
discouraged. You are not out of the reach 
of Omniscience; you have not deviated, 
whither the eye of your Father cannot fol- 
low you. A parent has a v/atchful eye ; it 
beams upon you still with love, and would 
bring you back again to your home. Nei- 
ther is God so far removed from you, as to 
be unable to hear the accents of your sup- 
plicating voice. Call upon him, and he will 
graciously answer, for he is " much more 
ready to hear, than you are to pray:" 
only, ** commit thy way unto the Lord, 
trust also in him, and he shall bring it to 
pass." Difficult as your salvation may be 
in your estimation, it is not impossible ; 
nothing is too hard for Omnipotence, 
only ** arise, and go to your Father." 



LECTURE VI. 171 

In the last place. Let those parents, 
if any such there should be out of the 
astonishing multitude assembled before 
me, who are now moijrning over an un- 
dutiful, profligate child, who bids fair to 
" bring down their grey hairs with sorrow 
to the grave," not give way to despair. 
The case of the young man before us, 
shows that it is possible he may yet think 
of returning to God, and that it is cer- 
tain he will be accepted if he does. Your 
house of mourning on his account, may 
yet be converted on the same account 
into the house of rejoicing. 

You who have hitherto counted your 
son as dead, may yet view him alive. 
You who have hitherto given him up as 
lost, may yet fold him in your embrace, 
restored to his senses, to his home, to 
yourselves, and to his God. Who knows 
what designs of mercy the Lord may me- 
ditate towards him ? His arm is not 
shortened that it cannot save, nor his 
goodness extinguished that he ivill not 

I 2 



17^ LECTURE VI. 

sa\^e. Instead of parents abandoning* 
themselves to useless, inactive, silent an- 
guish, which preys upon their vitals, let 
them raise their voices to God in suppli- 
cation and intercession for their children. 
If they have gone astray from your house, 
and are out of the reach of your per- 
sonal superintendence, they are not out 
of the reach of your prayers, or of God's 
grace. See that you yourselves are not 
chargeable with their delinquency, either 
because they have never been benefited 
by your fervent intercessions ; or else 
have been positively injured by bad pre- 
cept, and worse example. I conjure 
parents, in love and affection, to ponder 
well these things, lest "their children's 
blood be required at their hands." 

On the other hand, think haw trans- 
porting the delight, when standing in the 
midst of a glorified world, to be able to 
point to your offspring, as so many mo- 
numents of parental solicitude; that not 
a child has been lost through your inad- 



LECTURE VI. 173 

vertence ; but that you can appear before 
your Judge and say, ** Behold me, and 
the children whom thou hast given me.^' 
Think of this ; think of the delight of 
meeting a whole family in heaven, and 
glorious will be the result. 



174 



LECTURE VIL 

Luke xv, 21 — 24. 

u:^nd the son said unto him, Father, I 
have sinned against heaven and in thy 
sight, and am no more worthy to be 
called thy son. But the father said to 
his servants, Bring forth the best robe, 
and put it on him ; and put a ring on 
his hand, and shoes on his feet. And 
bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it ; 
and let us eat and be merry, for this 
my son was dead, and is alive again ; 
he was lost, and is found. 

At the close of our last lecture, we be- 
held the son folded in the embrace of his 
forgiving- father ; he pours forth his whole 
soul in those touching accents which we 
have before noticed, ** Father, I have 



LECTURE VII. 175 

sinned against heaven, and before thee." 
Every look, every word, every action 
declared the penitent. It was scarcely pos- 
sible for scepticism itself to call in ques- 
tion his sincerity ; at all events, his father 
was not among- the number of the incre- 
dulous. He felt convinced that his son 
did not add to his other crimes that of 
hypocrisy. Dissimulation, indeed, would 
have been of no avail, even if it could 
have been assumed for a time ; for de- 
tection, exposure, and expulsion, must 
have resulted from the discovery. The 
tears which bedewed his eyes, were not 
forced from their secret recesses by the 
momentary effort exerted on the occasion ; 
they were the spontaneous, involuntary 
overflowings of a heart, no longer able to 
restrain within its boundaries the flood 
of penitential mourning. His father^s 
bowels of compassion yearned upon him, 
and he lost not a moment in restoring 
him, not merely to his home, but to all 
the forfeited privileges of sonship. The 



176 



LECTURE VII. 



prodigal asked only the treatment and 
office of a servant, but, to show his com- 
plete and entire forgiveness, the father 
invested him with all the honors which 
parental affection could suggest. This is 
the last point we have to consider in the 
prodigal's history. He was treated, not 
as a culprit, but as a prince. " Bring 
forth," said the father to his servants, 
" the best robe, and put it on him, and 
put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his 
feet : and bring hither the fatted calf, and 
kill it, and let us eat and be merry." 

We may well imagine, what necessity 
there was for a complete change of ap- 
parel, when we consider the degradation 
to which the suppliant had been reduced, 
and the disgusting employment into which 
he had been forced by the imperative de- 
mands of hunger. Thus situated, he was 
totally unfit, either to appear in the pre- 
sence of his father, or to sit down to 
meat with those who were ranged around 
his father's table : he would have been an 



LECTURE VII. 177 

offence to all about him, his person being 
barely concealed by a few tattered rags, 
and even those filthy. But he was not 
long to remain this object of pity, nay of 
disgust. He was first to undergo a com- 
plete purification and cleansing, to be 
washed from all his filth and pollution ; 
and then not merely to be clothed afresh, 
which would have been a great consola- 
tion ; but to come forth adorned with 
one of the most splendid robes, reserved 
for state occasions. And as a still further 
token of honor, he was to be designated 
with a ring on his finger : the emblem of 
rank and distinction, perhaps bearing the 
arms or crest of the family, to show that 
he was re-admitted to his former station, 
and recognized as one of the domestic 
circle. And as no doubt he came bare- 
footed, shoes suitable to his dignity were 
placed upon his feet. 

What a change was made in the con- 
dition of this once miserable fugitive, but 
now thrice happy ransomed captive ! One 

I 5 



I/O LECTURE VII. 

moment we behold him grovelling in the 
dust, treated as the oifscouring of the 
earth ; the next we see him promoted to 
honor in the eyes of all around him ; 
crowned with such glory and loving-kind- 
ness as a father only could bestow, for 
who but a father would have pitied him 
in this low estate of prodigality ? 

But this was not the only testimonial 
of his parental delight, which he displayed 
in folding to his bosom the returning 
wanderer. His joy must not be of an 
exclusive nature, restricted merely to 
himself and his child, but diffused over 
the whole household, perhaps extending 
to his relations and friends, and the whole 
vicinity : as, doubtless, they had wept 
with the venerable father, when they saw 
him weeping over his bereavement ; so 
now they must be invited to rejoice with 
him, when he was rejoicing at the dis- 
covery he had made. The fatted calf 
must be killed, which had been fed in the 
stalls for some* extraordinary festival. 



LECTURE VII. 179 

That period had arrived. The calf must 
die, for a more appropriate occa.sion of 
festivity could scarcely be imagined ; to 
the father indeed it was^ beyond all com- 
parison, the happiest day of his life, and 
it was wholly unexpected : " This my 
son," says he, '' was dead, and is alive 
again, was lost, and is found ;" that is, 
was virtually dead to me, become as use- 
less and unprofitable to me, as if he were 
no longer a sojourner upon earth ; but is 
now restored to me alive, as one having 
burst the bands of death. He was lost 
in the wide world of sin. He had lost 
his senses, lost his property, lost his repu- 
tation, lost his all ; but is now found — 
found, so to speak, of himself, for he has 
recovered his reason ; he has regained his 
all ; he has found his way back again to 
his father's house j yea more, he has found 
his father, his still loving, though deeply 
injured father, and with him all that he 
can possibly desire, and O ! how infinite- 
ly more than he can possibly deserve ! 



180 LECTURE VII. 

Here then we have arrived at the close 
of the narrative ; but we pass on, in order 
to make the spiritual application of the 
subject, in which its beauty and force 
principally consist. The whole is in- 
tended in some measure to delineate, (for 
who can declare all its fulness ?) the 
divine attribute of mercy, as displayed by 
God our heavenly Father, throug-h Jesus 
Christ, towards his rebellious, but re- 
turning household ; honouring them with 
all the tokens of adopting love, investing 
them with all the immunities of heirs of 
immortality. When he beholds any of 
his children advancing towards him in a 
penitential attitude, hiding their faces in 
the dust, girt about the loins with sack- 
cloth, and sprinkled on the head with 
ashes ; he gently lifts them out of the 
mire, addressing them in this endearing 
language, " Bring forth the best robe, and 
put it upon him." This implies a pre- 
vious state of destitution. 

We have the authority of divine tes- 



LECTURE VII. 181 

timony and Christian experience, for as- 
serting, that the character of man by na- 
ture is, that he is '* miserable, poor, and 
naked." What Job says of himself in a 
temporal, may also be asserted with an 
equal degree of propriety, in a spiritual 
point of view : *' Naked came I out of my 
mother's womb.'' It is true, that like 
his guilty forefather Adam, his descend- 
ant tries to conceal his nudity and defor- 
mity by some stratagem of his own inven- 
tion ; by the fig-leaves of his own fancied 
righteousness, by some vestment of his 
own workmanship, the operation of his 
own hands ; but so flimsy are the mate- 
rials of the composition, that the naked- 
ness is perceptible through the transparent 
texture, and the distorted features still 
stand out to public gaze in all their native 
hideousness. The best substitute which 
man can provide for the decoration of his 
person, and the covering of his trans- 
gressions, however specious in appear- 
ance, or skilful the execution, can never 



18£ LECTURE Vir. 

rival the beauty, or possess the efficacy, of 
that dress selected from the king's ward- 
robe, with which He invests his family. 
** Nay," says the prophet, " even our 
righteousness,'' the best of our apparel, is 
only in the sight of God *' as filthy rags/' 
So far, therefore, from possessing in itself 
any cleansing property, itself needs to be 
purified from its natural defilement and 
corruption. 

We must, then, be utterly divested of 
our own garments, and be washed from 
the filth and pollution of guilt, in that 
"fountain opened for sin and unclean- 
ness,'^ ere we shall be fit to appear in 
the presence of Him, " in whose sight 
the heavens are not clean." But this, 
God our heavenly Father himself efi'ects 
in his own children ; for those whom ** he 
justifies, he also sanctifies." He himself, 
by the secret operations of his Spirit, 
carries on the purifying process in our 
souls, " purging our consciences from 
dead works, to serve himself, the living 



LECTURE VII. 183 

God.'* All that he requires of us is to hear 
from our own lips the acknowledgment 
and confession of our uncleanness and 
destitution. He will then *'put on us 
g-lorious apparel," and make us fit to stand 
in His presence. He will bring forth for 
our use, and invest us with, the '' best 
robe.^^ 

This expression of the *'best robe," is 
generally understood by commentators 
to mean, the righteousness of Christ, 
which being imputed to all his people, 
covereth all their sins, and presents them 
pure and immaculate before the mercy- 
seat. This is what the apostle calls the 
*^ righteousness of God which is by faith 
upon all them that believe." So that by 
faith apprehending this righteousness, the 
sinner is admitted into the household of 
God ; not on account of his own, but 
for the merits of our Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ. But as we contend not for 
any peculiar names or phraseology, we 
would also state, that the best robe may 



184 LECTURE VII. 

signify not onfy that righteousness which 
is imputed to us, but which is also im- 
parted to us, or produced in us, whereby 
we are enabled to become in any measure 
obedient to the law, and conformable to 
the image of Christ ; or, in other words, 
it may denote personal holifiess, the im- 
plantation of that power by which we are 
enabled at all to '* walk as sons of God, 
holy, and v/ithout rebuke, in the midst of a 
crooked and perverse generation." Thus, 
adorned with the wedding garment, the 
beauty of holiness, we shall be acceptable 
guests at " the marriage supper of the 
Lamb." This is the "fine linen," the 
"white raiment," the "righteousness of 
the saints," which St. John describes as 
the appropriate garb of the heavenly wor- 
shippers, and which can alone conceal the 
shame of their nakedness. This is the 
best robe, the royal robe, made " white 
in the blood of the Lamb;" which, reflect- 
ing the glory of the Lord, shall cause the 
" righteous to shine forth as the sun in 



LECTURE VII. 185 

the kingdom of their Father.'^ " Such 
honour have all his saints." 

But there is another mark of distinction 
which shall be bestowed upon those who 
are sanctified. A **ring shall be put 
upon their hand." The ring was for- 
merly, and is at this moment in eastern 
countries, a token of exaltation ; and de- 
signates the person thus adorned, to be 
an individual of rank, holding a distin- 
guished situation in society. Thus we 
read, that when king Ahasuerus was 
desirous of conferring some mark of 
royal approbation upon Mordecai, '* he 
took off his ring, and gave it to him." 
This then is generally understood to 
be emblematical of the Spirit of God, 
whereby ** we are sealed unto the day of 
redemption." This is the signet on our 
right hand, bearing the divine image and 
superscription, which at once demon- 
strates ** whose we are, and whom we 
serve." Or else it may appropriately de- 
note that bond of spiritual union which 



186 LECTURE VII. 

exists betwixt Christ and his church, 
whereby they are rivetted together by 
one interminable link of unalienable love; 
just as at the marriage ceremony we place 
the ring upon the finger of the bride, as 
emblematical of uninterrupted unity and 
harmony. At all events, it is an honorable 
badge of distinction, and characterizes the 
wearer as a man *' approved of God, 
thoroughly furnished unto good works ;" 
it is one of those ornaments of sanctifying 
grace, which ennobles and adorns the 
christianized subject. 

The portrait, however, is not yet com- 
pleted—something else must be added. 
** Shoes must be placed on the feet*" 
Allusion is here made to this necessary 
part of our dress by the apostle, who 
says, that Christians should have *' their 
feet shod with the preparation of the gos- 
pel of peace." This is essentially requisite 
to enable them to **go on their way 
rejoicing," in the midst of a world of 
tumult, of toil, and of trouble ; to lift 



LECTURE VII. 187 

them out of the mire ; without this, they 
would not be enabled to overcome any 
obstacle which might be placed in their 
path, hindering them in "running the race 
that is set before them." But such is the 
tender mercy of God, he "keepeth the 
feet of his servants," so that lying as 
their journey does, amidst rocks and pre- 
cipices, briers and thorns, he preserves 
them that they are not dashed in pieces 
against the one, or lacerated in pieces by 
the other : he enables them to pass unin- 
jured through the vale of tears, to his 
own house, the mansion of blessedness. 
He himself prepares, and presents them 
with the preservative ointment, the pre- 
paration of the gospel of peace, which 
gives stability to their steps, and supplies 
the healing balm for every wound ; so 
that the Lord thus ** ordering a good 
man s ways, he makes even his enemies 
to be at peace with him." Behold the 
goodness of God towards his apostate 
children : " he will not break the bruised 



188 LECTURE VII. 

reed, nor quench the smoking flax/^ Who 
does not ardently desire to cast off the 
grave-clothes of corruption, yea even his 
own fancied ornaments, and to be clothed 
upon with the robe and the ring ? 

But the ample superabounding provi- 
sion which God has made for the suste- 
nance of his perishing people remains yet 
to be told. It is not that scanty supply 
which we dole out to a famishing beggar 
who solicits a morsel at our hands, to 
rescue him from famine. For those who 
come hungry and thirsty to God, their 
souls fainting within them, the fatted 
calf must be killed — they must have a 
" feast of fat things," ^' of wines upon the 
lees.'* God would impart to them *' all 
things richly to enjoy."' Who does not 
see that in this allusion we have a type of 
all that plenitude of gospel mercies so 
freely and fully offered to a dying world ? 
What but the " flesh of Christ, which is 
meat indeed ;" what but " the blood of 
Christ, which is drink indeed," is capable 



LECTURE vn. 189 

of nourishing and sustaining* the soul unto 
eternal life ? It would be mere mockery 
to attempt to satiate the famishing soul of 
a weary pilgrim with food of any other 
quality, obtained from any other quarter ; 
it would be as if a father were to extend 
a stone to a perishing child who had 
entreated bread; or to give him a serpent 
to sting him to death, when he had asked 
for a fish to preserve him alive. God the 
Father then sets before his supplicating 
mendicant the gospel of his dear Son, and 
bids him, largely and liberally, partake of 
those mercies and privileges it so copi- 
ously provides, until he is satisfied ; until 
he feels himself strengthened and invigo- 
rated, ennobled and enriched ; until he is 
enabled to walk in newness of life, in 
newness of hope, in all the glorious free- 
dom and liberty of one who is ** an heir 
of God, and joint heir of Christ." The 
gracious God points out to him his only 
begotten Son, as " the bread of life," '* of 
which they who eat shall live for ever ;*' 



190 LECTURE VII. 

SO that whereas sin has introduced lean- 
ness and a famine into the soul, till it is 
nigh unto death ; the gospel imparts a 
restoring and vivifying power, by which 
it gathers strength unto eternity, and 
comes forth in all the freshness and vigour 
of a new creation. Thus shall it be done 
unto the man whose " meat and drink it 
is to do the will of God ;^^ from having 
participated here below in the fatted calf, 
that is, of the rich banquet of gospel 
mercies, he shall be qualified to sit down 
in the appropriate garb at the marriage 
supper of the Lamb. 

But the transaction here recorded be- 
tween God the Father and the penitent 
sinner, like that of the prodigal and his 
father, is an affair much too important to 
be celebrated only in private by those 
who are the principal actors ; the whole 
family and household must record the 
triumph. Angels and Archangels must 
tune their harps to songs of praise, and 
unite in ascribinof ** Glorv to God in the 



LECTURE VIT. 19 i 

highest, and on earth peace, good-will 
towards men." Accordingly we read, 
" that there is joy in heaven over one 
sinner that repenteth." Though the 
event here, on earth, may be allowed 
to pass unnoticed, or, if noticed, only to 
be treated with contempt by ungodly 
men ; yet will the heaven of heavens re- 
echo the deed, and the returning ran- 
somed fugitive will be welcomed into his 
Father's house, amidst all the melody of 
celestial anthems. Wherefore ? because, 
says God, " this my son was dead and is 
alive again, was lost and is found." This 
is the case of all mankind by nature. 
With respect to God and their immortal 
souls, they are in this state of deathlike 
insensibility ; nay, St. Paul reminds the 
converted Ephesians of the time when 
they were actually dead ; " dead in tres- 
passes and sins ;" having, it may be, a 
name to live, but in reality being dead. 

Oh! thou child of prodigality, of folly, 
and of the devil, behold your misery and 



192 LECTURE VII. 

pity yourself. Though you may possess all 
the energies of animal existence, and be 
nerved for animal enjoyment, your '' si- 
news as iron, and your brows as brass," 
still we are bound to tell you, that there 
is no life in you ; you are spiritually dead ; 
dead to the calls and strivings of the 
Holy Spirit ; — dead to the pure unalloyed 
delights of religion ; — dead to the antici- 
pations of future blessedness ; — dead to 
the family and household of God ; — eter- 
nally dead, as being dead unto God him- 
self! Lost — lost to every thing that is 
valuable and precious, having lost your 
senses; lost your riches; lostyourhealth;— 
lost your life ; — lost your soul, and lost 
your God. 

O thou fugitive and vagabond upon 
the face of the earth, whither wilt thou 
seek for rest for the sole of thy foot ? 
Every step in your wicked career, in 
proportion as it is a retrograde movement 
from the house of your Father, just in the 
same proportion is it a progressive ad- 



LECTURE VII. 193 

vancement towards the satanic abode. 
Pause ! O pause then in your course, for 
you may rush forwards beyond the line 
which, once passed, can never be regained. 
The Spirit may be grieved, yea, it may be 
quenched, it will not ** always strive with 
man ;'' you may be deserted by God ; the 
light of God's countenance may be with- 
drawn ; you may be ** given over to a 
reprobate mind ;" it may be " impossible 
to renew you to repentance." But now 
the arms of your Father are ready for 
your embrace ; the house of your Father 
is open to receive you ; the friends and 
family of your Father are ardently desir- 
ing to welcome your approach ; the fes- 
tive table of your Father is spread for 
your reception. Come then to this ban- 
quet of delight ; behold the ring and the 
robe are pressed upon your acceptance. 
We wish indeed to see you dead, but it is 
" dead unto sin, and alive unto God ;" 
dead to the frivolities and follies of time, 
but alive unto the realities and joys of eter- 

K 



194 LECTURE VII. 

nity. We wish to see you lost ; lost by 
your former companions and acquaint- 
ance ; lost to the world, but found by 
God ; found in heaven through Him who 
came " to seek and to save that which 
was lost." 

Scripture history does not enable us to 
follow this reclaimed wanderer into any 
of the scenes of his after life ; doubtless 
the remainder of his days was distin- 
guished by an ardent devotion to the 
commands and authority of his earthly 
parent — it became his meat and drink to 
do his will ; and, with respect to his 
heavenly Father, against whom he had so 
grievously sinned, and by whom he was 
so graciously pardoned, he desired that, 
whether in life or in death, he might 
eternally glorify His Holy Name. 

Into the remaining portion of the para- 
ble our limits do not permit us to enter, 
neither does it form a component part of 
our present arrangement ; suffice it to 
say, that the conduct of the prodigal is 



LECTURE VII. 195 

intended to illustrate the character of the 
penitent publican, admitted to a full par- 
ticipation of divine grace ; while the 
conduct of the eldest son is a portraiture 
of the self-righteous pharisee, murmuring 
at the admission of his less deserving 
brother to equal, if not greater, privileges 
than himself; who, in his own estimation, 
was alone entitled to all the bounty of 
his father, as the just tribute of remunera- 
tion for his meritorious conduct. But 
the whole reasoning of this monopolist of 
divine favour is triumphantly refuted by 
our Lord, in the same chapter, wherein 
he says, " that joy shall be in heaven over 
one sinner that repenteth, more than over 
ninety and nine just persons who need no 
repentance." 

We have now accompanied the prodigal 
throughout his chequered career. We 
have gone out with him into the far dis- 
tant country, whither, in his folly and 
impiety, he thought to escape the scruti- 
nizing eye even of his God. But we 



196 LECTURE VII. 

have beheld him brought back again, in 
safety, to the house of his father, by that 
very God to whom he disowned allegi- 
ance ; but who, nevertheless, would not 
suffer his unalterable love to be alienated. 
God bears much and long with his rebel- 
lious people ; it is not until he is abso- 
lutely compelled, by their obstinacy and 
hardness of heart, that he consigns them 
over to the hopeless doom of the repro- 
bate. 

From the contemplation of the scene 
before us, what emotions ought to be 
kindled in our bosoms? An intensity of 
love, and an eternity of praise. See here 
the mighty power and mighty goodness 
of God displayed in arresting the career 
of vice and prodigality, hurrying on their 
victim with a force which nothing but the 
arm of Omnipotence could resist, into the 
gulf of unfathomable misery. Who, on 
gazing on the departure of this young man 
from his parental roof, for distant climes, 
ever expected to see him restored to 



LECTURE VII. 197 

the bosom of his family, except, perhaps, 
conveyed thither an emaciated corpse, 
shrouded in a coffin, to be deposited 
in the tomb of his ancestors ? Who 
must not have anticipated his destruction? 
But God had a design of mercy towards 
him ; he would display his long-suffering 
and forbearance ; he would magnify the 
exceeding riches of his grace, in rescu- 
ing the " brand from the burning,'' so 
that where sin had abounded, grace might 
superabound to his own honour, and 
praise, and glory. 

Who has powers of imagination to con- 
ceive, much less who has eloquence to 
declare, the exceeding amplitude of that 
salvation, so wonderfully wrought out for 
us by that Redeemer, whose death we 
are shortly more especially to commemo- 
rate ? But, although we are wholly un- 
able to do justice to the subject, it is 
impossible, altogether, to remain silent ; 
for, if our tongues were to cleave to the 
roof of our mouths, and refuse to re-echo 

k3 



198 LECTURE VII. 

the Redeemer's praises, the very stones 
would rebuke us, and become vocal. The 
very sea itself would make a noise, as if 
to bellow out the adoring* song ; the very 
** floods would clap their hands" in token 
of joy } the whole creation would join in 
one universal chorus, and fill the canopy 
of heaven with the song- of redemption, 
bidding us all ** behold the Lamb of God 
who taketh away the sins of the world." 

But while the subject is one of over- 
whelming interest, and affords the greatest 
possible encouragement to every penitent 
returning prodigal, it holds out not the 
least prospect of hope to the impenitent, 
unbelieving, still hardened offender ; he 
has but little reason for self-congratula- 
tion at the prospect before him. The 
wrath of God is as clearly revealed against 
him, and will be as certainly executed, as 
that the sun is placed in the firmament. 
Great as is the mercy of God, in his pre- 
sent state it cannot be extended towards 
him ; his doom is fi\ed, ** the soul that 



LECTURE VII. 199 

sinneth it must die," is the sentence pro- 
nounced against him. Who can avert it ? 
None but that Redeemer whom he has 
rejected, whose mercies he has despised, 
whose invitations he has spurned, whose 
calls to repentance he has obstinately 
refused to hear. 

" Who is the most miserable man upon 
earth," asks an eminent divine, " and 
whither shall we go to seek him ? not to 
the tavern, not to the theatre, not even to 
a brothel, but to the church. That man 
who has sat sabbath after sabbath under 
the awakening and affecting calls of the 
gospel, and has hardened his heart against 
these calls, he is the man of all others the 
most desperate." It avails him not that 
he is ranked among the honourable men of 
the earth ; that he holds an exalted sta- 
tion in society ; that he is " clothed in 
purple and fine linen, and fares sumptu- 
ously every day ;" he is an abomination 
in the sight of his Maker ; he walks upon 
the earth under the just judgment of a 



200 LECTURE VII. 

righteous God. O ! deceiv.e not your- 
selves, lay not the soothing unction to 
your souls, that you may repent at any 
given moment, or that a few words of 
sorrow, forced from your lips at the pros- 
pect of death, will move the compassion of 
the Lord to overlook all that is past. We 
must take the Scriptures as we find them, 
nor attempt to mould them to our own 
views, or to adapt them to our own 
inclinations. There we find a woe of 
unutterable anguish denounced against 
every worker of iniquity. The apostle, 
after having enumerated a long catalogue 
of ungodliness, concludes the whole by 
saying, that '^ they who do such things, 
shall not inherit the kingdom of God." 

Hear ye this then, ye careless daugh- 
ters, and thoughtless sons ! Ye of every 
age, and of every rank, who are still 
" tied and bound by the chain of your 
iniquities \ " who are still at your ease, 
living in sin, that grace may abound ; 
See, O see, ere it be too late, the ine- 



LECTURE vir. 201 

vitable termination of your suicidal obsti- 
nacy ; see whither you are hastening 
with tremendous precipitation. One step 
more, and a retreat may be impracticable I 
You may be given up to imcleanness ; to 
the lust of your own hearts, to the repro- 
bation of your own minds ; because that, 
" knowing God, you glorify him not as 
God, neither are thankful;" your " ini- 
quities may make a separation between 
you and your God/^ I conjure you then, I 
implore you, by all that you hold most dear, 
to pause in your career ; rush not forwards 
into the abyss of ruin ; return, return, like 
the prodigal, to the bosom of your God. 
Return, thou backslider, thou wanderer, 
and thou waverer. Cry aloud for mercy, 
while the day of mercy lasts 5 to-morrow 
may be the day of vengeance. Know in 
what your peace and security consist ; 
only ** arise, and go to your Father.'^ 

We are here compelled to take our 
leave of the interesting subject of our 
narrative ; but we cannot do so without 



202 



LECTURE Vil. 



an ascription of praise and honor to Him, 
who has erected, in the person of the 
ransomed prodigal, a splendid monument 
of redeeming grace, to be read of all men 
throughout all ages, recording the resur- 
rection of one who was dead, and is alive 
again, through Jesus Christ. " Now 
unto him that is able to keep you from 
falling, and to preserve you faultless before 
the presence of his glory with exceeding 
joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be 
glory and majesty, dominion and power, 
both now and ever/^ Amen 



THE END. 



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General Observations on the subject. By the Rev. William 
GooDE, M. A., of Trinity College, Cambridge ; Curate of Christ 
Church, with St. Leonard Foster, and Lecturer of St. Mary Wool- 
noth, London. Bvo. 10s. 6rf. boards. 

SERMONS. By the late Rev. William 

HowELS. lOs. 6d. boards. 

SERMONS. By the Rev. Henry Vaughan, 

Vicar of Crickhowel, Brecknockshire. Bvo. 10s. Qd. bds. 



Works published by J. Hatchard and Son. 
MEMOIRS of the LIFE of the late Rev. 

JOHN MERRY, compiled by his second son, and revised by 
the Rev. Rohert Cox, M. A*., perpetual Curate of Stonehouf-e, 
and Chaplain to the Most Noble the Marquis of Sligo. Second 
Edition, small 8vo. 

A FORM PRAYERS, selected and com- 

posed for the use of a Family principally consisting of young per- 
sons. Tenth Edition, corrected. 12mo. 2s. 6rf. boards. 



BISHOP OF CHESTER'S WORKS. 
1. A PRACTICAL EXPOSITION of the 

GOSPELS of ST. MATTHEW and ST. MARK, in the form of 
Lectures, intended to assist the Practice of Domestic Instruc- 
tion and Devotion. Third Edition. 8vo. 9s. bds., or 2 vols. 
12mo. 9*. bds. 

2. A PRACTICAL EXPOSITION of the GOSPEL of ST 
LUKE, in 1 voL 8vo. or 2 vols. 12mo. Q^.bds. 

3. A SERIES of SERMONS on the CHRISTIAN FAITH 
and CHARACTER. Eighth Edition. 8vo. lO^. 6d. bds. or 
12mo. 6s. bds. 

4. SERMONS on the PRINCIPAL FESTIVALS of the 
CHRISTIAN CHURCH; to which are added. Three Sermons 
on Good Friday. Third edition, 8vo. 10^. 6d. bds. or 12mo. 
6s. bds. 

5. THE EVIDENCE of CHRISTIANITY, derived from its 
NATURE and RECEPTION. Fifth Edition, 8vo. 10*. 6c/. bds. 
or 12mo. 65. bds. 

6. A TREATISE on the RECORDS of the CREATION, and 
on the Moral Attributes of the Creator. Fifth Edition. 2 vols. 
8vo. 1/. Is. boards. 

7. APOSTOLICAL PREACHING CONSIDERED, in an 

Examination of St. Paul's Epistles. Also, FOUR SERMONS 
on Subjects relating to the Christian Ministry, and preached 
on different Occasions. Seventh edition, 8vo. 10s. 6d. bds. 

8. TWO CHARGES delivered to the CLERGY of the Diocese 
Chester, in 1329 and 1832. 



RELIGIOUS WORKS, 

PUBLISHED BY 

W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL, 

ST ATI ONERS'-HALL-COURT, 



DEDICATED BY PERMISSION TO THE RT. REV. THE LORD BISHOP 
OF SALISBURY, 

THE COTTAGE BIBLE, 

AND 

CONTAINING THE AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION OF THE 

OLD AND NEW TESTAMENTS, 

WITH 

PRACTICAL REFLECTIONS AND EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

BY THOMAS WILLIAMS, 

Author of a new Translation of" Solomon's Song ;" an Historic Defence 
of Experimental Religion ; a Dictionary of all Religions, &c. &:c. 

In 3 Vols. 8vo. ^2. boards, or in 40 Parts, Is. each. 



In order to secure a correct copy of the authorized Translation, 
the text has been printed from an Oxford stereotyped Edition, and 
compared with those of Cambridge and Edinburgh ; and the Editor 
has been assisted by a clerical friend in the revisal of the proofs. 

In the course of publication^ the Cottage Bible has been recom- 
mended by letters received from the Rev. G. Tottnsend, M.A. Pre- 
bendary of Durham, and Rector of Northallerton; the Rev. Luke 
Booker, LL.D. F.R.S.L.., Vicar of Dudley ; Rev. Jos. Bosworth, 
M.A.F.J.S. F.R.S.L., Vicar of Little Norwood ; Z?eu. T. Morti- 
mer, M.A. Minister of St. Mark''s Gmrch, Clerkenwell, and Lecturer 
of St. Leonard's, Shoreditch ; and the Rev. R. Marks, Vicar of Great 
3Iissenden. Alio by the late Rev. Dr. Ryland and Dr. Waugh ; Dr. 
J. P. Smith of Homerton, Dr. Ma^^vei. of Edinburgh, Dr. Morrison- 
of China, Dr. Cope of Wakefield ; by the Rev. Messrs. Burder, Black- 
burn, Fletcher, GRiFFi>r, Jay, New^ian, Roby, Thorivton, 
and other Ministers. Also in the Rev. T. H. Horne's " Introduction to 
the Critical Study of the Scriptures,'" 8^c. 5th Edition, Vol. II. p. 773 ; 
and in the following Periodical Works : — 

"^ Mr. Williams's Cottage Bible contains practical reflections on the 
Old and New Testaments, critical and explanatory notes on difficult and 
obscure passages, prefaces and introductions to the Old and New Tes- 
taments, and the principal books, with indexes, chronological tables, 
maps, &c. We are happy to add, that the whole work is written in 
an excellent spirit, and contains much well calculated to instruct and 

edify Christians of every denomination Mr. "W. has annexed to 

his Commentary a series of critical, and in some instances, curious 
notes." — Christian Guardian, April 1828. 

" We have much satisfaction in announcing the publication of the for- 
tieth, and concluding part of this very respectable and useful Family 
Bible. In our judgment, an exposition of the whole Scriptures, which 



2 WORKS PUBLISHED BY W. SIMPKfN AND R. MARSHz\LL. 

combined in a cheap form as much popular criticism as would elucidate 
those passages which are really difficult and obscure, with concise prac- 
tical reflections, has long been a desideratum. We are thankful that the 
life of the venerable author of the work before us has been spared to 
complete an undertaking, which we hailed with satisfaction, and which, 
while in the course of its publication, we have often read with pleasure ; 
and now it is happily completed in three octavo volumes, with four valu- 
able maps, chronological and geographical indices, historical connexion, 
&c. presents, we conceive, all that the ordinary readers of the Sacred 
Scriptures can wish for their elucidation, and at a price which the eco- 
nomy of religion will enable even poor Christians to pay."— Cow^re^rt- 
iionul Mag. Nov. 1827. 

" The doctrinal views maintained in the Cottage Bible are strictly 
evangelical, and the general character of the Exposition is highly prac- 
tical. We can, without fear of disappointing our readers, warmly re- 
commend a work in which piety, sound bibiicai knowledge, familiar 
illustrations, and well-timed criticism, are the distinguishing charac- 
teristics. We should be happy to see the day when every cottage in 
the land possessed a copy of ' The Cottage Bible.' '^—Evangelical Mag. 
December 1827. 

" By all who hold the fundamental articles of our common faith, this 
work may be perused with great advantage. It contains in its notes and 
exposition a fund of valuable biblical information, and comprises within 
a narrow compass the varied opinions of learned men on numerous points 
of doubtful interpretation." — Imperial Magazine, February 1828. 

" This volume (the third) concludes Mr. Williams's pious and very use- 
ful work. The notes are concise and judicious, well adapted to popular 
instruction. The creed of the author is Calvinistic ; but the topics which 
he presses upon the attention of his readers with the greatest frequency 
audearnestness, are those vital truths of the gospel, in which all orthodox 
Christians are agreed ; and he is laudably careful to give especial pro- 
minence to the all-important subject of personal religion." — Methodist 
Magazine, February 1«28. 

" Why this should be called ' The Cottage Bible,' we cannot imagine ; 
unless it be on account of its conciseness and cheapness. It will, no 
doubt, be found in the libraries of our most learned ministers, in our 
schools of the highest rank, and in our academies for theological students. 
Colleges and Halls will entertain it with high respect ; nor is it unworthy 
of being introduced into the mansions of our nobles, and the palaces of 
our princes." — Baptist Mag. February 1828. 

" We think the Cottage Bible a valuable work for those ministers 
whose circumstances will not allow them to purchase many, or larger 
Commentators; and the researches and selections of the author do him 
great credit." — Home Mission Mag, 

" The Scripture commentaries now in use among all denominations are 
so numerous, and their claims for the most part so well established, 
that the announcement of another work of the same description might 
appear, at first sight, whoily supcifluous ;. . . .but upon inspecting " the 
Cottage Bible," it will be seen that Mr. W.'splan, so far from being su- 
perseded by the more learned and voluminous works of his prede- 
cessors and contemporaries, or of interfering with their field of useful- 
ness, is designed to supply an important desideratum to the Christian 
public, by providing persons in the humbler walks of life with a Family 
Expositor, in the best form and at the lowest expense, in which are 
contained all essential requisites to a profitable study and correct 
knowledge of the Holy Scriptures. And we are happy to testify that 
the outlines of the plan, and the liberal principles on which the work 
was undertaken, as slated by Mr. W. in the Preface, and in his ori- 
ginal Prospectus, have been fully realized in the execution throughout.. , 
In conclusion, though personally unknown to Mr, W., we beg to congra- 
tulate him on the completion ot his undertaking, and trust the important 
service he has rendered to the cause of God and truth will be duly ap- 
preciated and honoured. Indeed, from the testimonies already borne to 
ihe work, its success will no doubt equal, if not exceed, his most san- 
guine expectations."— iVeio Bapt. Miscel, Aug. 1828. 



WORKS PUBLISHED BY W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL. 3 

DAILY BREAD; or, Meditations, Practical and Ex- 
perimental, for every Day in the Year, by more than One Hundred 
efrainent and popular Ministers of the last half century, and a few other 
writers. The whole adapted either for the Family or Closet, and 
containing the Outline of Three Hundred and Sixty-six Discourses. 
T. Williams, Editor. 12mo. 7s. 6d. Boards— 8s. Bound. 

" Having- explained tlie nature and object of this work, and recommended 
the use of it to our readers in reviewing: the first edition (vol. -29, 0,S. p. 151), 
we have only here to notice the improvements now introduced ; viz. literal 
errors have been corrected throughout ; some of the longer papers have been 
cautiously abridged ; ten or a dozen of those found too similar have been su- 
jierseded by others from living preachers of the first respectability ; a table 
has been subjoined of the authors' names; and (which is an improvement 
not very common) the price has been reduced one shilling, ' to give it a more 
CTcfen'iive circulation,' which is exactly in accordance with our wishes."— 
Evn.v. Mag. Jan. 182^. 

" A large portion of these selections is original, the MSS. having been fur- 
nished either by the authors, or by individuals accustomed to follow ministers 
with the pen. Economy both of time and price has been consulted, and, alto- 
gether, Mr. W. has produced a work eminently deserving the patronage of 
the religious public." — Cong. Mag. April 1823. 

REFLECTIONS ON THE WORD OF GOD for every 
Day in the Year. By the late Rev. William Ward, Missionary at Se- 
rampore. 12mo. with a fine Portrait, 6s. 6d. Boards ; 7s. Bound. 

" The plan of the work is sufficiently simple. For every day in the year a 
text is selected, upon which the author makes such reflections as its subject 
suggests to him. They are short; consisting generally of one, two, or three 
pages of a small octavo volume; so that those persons (and we should hope 
there are many such) who are disposed to devote a portion of each day to tlie 
consideration of sacred subjects, would find this book a convenient manual, 
which would load them gradually into a very extensive field of religious in- 
quiry. Sometimes the judicious reader will meet with hints which he may 
improve, and sometimes with positions which he may be inclined to dispute. 
But he will find every where indications of a mind thoroughly devoted to the 
great object of diffusing religious instruction, of enlightening the ignorant, 
awakening the thoughtless, reclaiming the ■v^icked, improving the good.'" — 
Quarterly Theological Review, No. 5. 

SHORT and PLAIN DISCOURSES, for the Use of Fa- 
milies. By the Rev. Thomas Knowles, B. A. Rector of South Somer- 
cotes, and late Curate of Humberstone, Lincolnshire. Three Volume^, 
12mo. 13s. 6d. Boards. 

The same, in 3 vols. 8vo. 16s. Boards. Of Vols. 2 and 3, an additronal 
number is printed, for the accommodation of the Subscribers to the 1st 
volume, Us. Boards. 

" Mr. Knowles is advantageously known as the author of a small volume 
entitled ' Satan's Devices exposed;' and the present publication will sustain 
his character as a pious and useful writer." — Congregational Mag. April 
1810. 

By the same Author, 12mo. 2s. 6d. Boards, the Fourth Edition of 
SATAN'S DEVICES EXPOSED, in Four Discourses. 

" Mr. Knowles has our thanks for this little volume on a most important sab- 
ject. It is adapted to the instruclj.on and comfort of a large portion of profess- 
ing Christians, and deserves a wide circulation." — Eclectic Review^ March 
IS 33. 

A DICTIONARY OF RELIGIOUS OPINIONS ; or, a 

Concise Account of the various Denominations into which the Christian 
Profession is divided; including Biographical Sketches of the Founders 
of the different Denominations, and a view of the Ecclesiastical Govern- 
ment peculiar to each Sect. A New Edition, revised, corrected, and 
enlarged. By William Jones, Author of the Biblical Cyclopaedia, and 
History of the Christian Church ; with Portraits of the most eminent Re- 
formers. 12mo. 5s. Boards. 

" The description of each Sect is given with accuracy and candour; and we 
can fairly say, that it is, upon the whole, the best book of the kind that we 
have ieen.^''— British Critic. 



4 WORKS PUBLISHED BY W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL. ^ 

A PARTING MEMORIAL, consisting of Miscellaneous 
Discourses, written and preached in China, at Singapore, on Board Ship 
at Sea. in the Indian Ocean ; at the Cape of Good Hope, and in Eng- 
land. With Remarks on Missions, &c. &c. By Robert Morrison, D.D. 
F.R.S. M.R.A.S. President of the Anglo-Chinese College, Member of 
the Societe Asiatique of Paris, Author of a Chinese Dictionary, Trans- 
lator of the Sacred Scriptures, &c. 8vo. with an exquisite Likeness, 
painted and engraved by Woodman, 10s. 6d. Boards; the Portrait on 
India Paper, separately, price 2s. 

'* The volume on our table is equaHy cretlitable to Dr. Morrison as a di- 
vine and a njissiouary. We are fully persuaded tbat the British Churches 
vill derive much spiritual edification from the jierasal of every part of it." — 
Escangelical Magazine, June 1826. 

SHORT DISCOURSES, adapted to Village Worship, or 
the Devotions of a Family. By the late Rev. B. Beddome, A. M. 8 
Vols. 12mo. 16s. ; 8 Vols. 8vo. 24s. Each Vol. may be had separately. 
" As a preachir, Mr. Beddome was universally admired for the piety and 
unction of his sentiments, the felicity of his arrang-ement, and the purity, 
force, andsimplicity of his languafre; all which were recommended by a de- 
livery i)erfectly natural and graceful. His printed Discourses, taken from 
tlie MSS. which he left behind him at his decease, are fair specimens of his 
usual performances in the pulpit. They are eminent for the qualities already 
mentioned; and their merits, which the modesty of the Author concealed 
from himself, have been justly appreciated by the religious public." — Preface 
to Beddome's Hymns, by RobertHall, A.M. of Leicester. 

LECTURES on the LORD's PRAYER ; with two Dis- 

courses on interesting and important Subjects. By the Rev. Luke 
Booker, LL.D. F. R. S.L. and Vicar of Dudley. 12mo. 4s. 6d. Boards. 
" In these Lectures the different clauses of the Lord's Prayer are ()jsc\issed 
with brevity, but with no mean ability and judgment. To the Lectures on the 
Lord's Prayer are subjoined Two Discourses; one " On Suicide," and tiie other 
"On Humanity to the Brute Creation;" in both of which Dr. Booker displays 
sentiment?, highly creditable to him both as a niinister and aman." — Quarterly 
Tk^ological Review, Vol. II. 

By the same Author, 18rao. 2s. Boards, 

The MOURNER COMFORTED on the Loss of a Child. 

♦* In a religious view, scenes of mourning are admirably instructive; and 
such beautiful and affecting remarks as abound in this little work, are emi- . 
iventlv fitted to aid the cause of piety and yvisilom.'''— Gentleman's Mag. Jiily 1S2(5, 

^ PRACTICAL SERMONS, chiefly designed for Family 
Reading. By the Rev. Thomas Blackley, A. M. Curate of Rotherham. 
3 Volumes, 12mo. 16s. 6d. Boards. 

" T!ie subjects of the discourses are almost all interesting, and the leading 
doctrines of Christianity are brouglit forward 1o notice in a very promineirt 
manner. The author is not one of those preacliers who rest satisfied sv^ith mere 
formal statements of the truth, and who leave their hearf rs to make an ap- 
plication of it to tliemselves: but while he calls upon them to believe, he urges 
upon them the necessity of exhibiting, in their daily deportment, the influence 
of the gospel." — Edinburgh Theological, May 18^7. 

The BELIEVER'S POCKET COMPA.NrON; contJn- 

ing a ]S umber of Passages (chiefly Promises) selected from the Sacred 
Waitings; with Observations in Prose and Verse. Tenth Edition ; to 
which are now first prefixed. Thoughts on Devotional Retirement, and 
Additional Meditations, by the late Rev. J. Evans, of Bristol. 6d. 

The REFLECTOR, or Christian Advocate ; in which the 
united efforts of modern Infidels and Socinians are detected and exposed ; 
iijustrated by numerous Examples : being the substance of the Bushby 
Lectures, delivered on appointment of the Lord Bishop of London, in 
the Parish Churches of St. James's, Clerkenwell, and St. Antholin's, 
V/atling-street, by the Rev. S. Piggott, A.M. Rector of Dunstable, 
Bedfordshire, Chaplain to Lord Viscount Carlton, and Author of" Guide 
for Families in Sacred' Truth," &c. 8vo. 10s. Boards. 

ADVICE to YOUTH ; containing a Compendium of the 
Duties of Human Life, in Youth and Manhood. By Hugh Blair, 
D.l? .F.R.S. , Ai.ilh:;i- of the Sermons, Lectures on Rhetoric, &c. A 
n^ w edition, with a Corollary to each chapter, is. 6d. half-bd. in roan. 



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